<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>The Worthy by junisfics</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28903272">The Worthy</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/junisfics/pseuds/junisfics'>junisfics</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Attempted Sexual Assault, Cheating, Childhood Friends, Confessional Sex, Corruption, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Friends With Benefits, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Masturbation, Mutual Pining, Sexual Harassment, Sexual Tension, Smut</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-04-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 10:36:11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>61,538</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28903272</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/junisfics/pseuds/junisfics</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Reader is reaching a point in her relationship where sex is coming up in conversation, but she's an inexperienced virgin. And who's better to show her the ropes than her childhood best-friend Eren?</p><p>Crossposted to Wattpad and Tumblr</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Eren Yeager/Reader</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>123</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>2201</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Before</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Throughout this series, you will come across content of the following:</p><p>Cheating, Toxic Relationship, Sexual Assault, Smut/ Nsfw 18+ (Corruption Kink, Marking, Loss of Virginity, Dumbification, Dacryphilia)</p><p>Authors Note: It's come to my attention that people have been stealing the first couple of chapters of this story and claiming it as theirs.<br/>Please know that I only post this story under the username @junisfics and only on Wattpad, Tumblr and Ao3. If you see someone plagiarizing my story please let me know!</p>
    </blockquote><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>After an awkward interaction with her boyfriend to be, Reader confides in three of her friends to help her out.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>You couldn’t exactly pinpoint what it was, or when you stopped… all you know is that you did. Your hands stilled at the base of his neck, lips pulled away from his, but his palms were still sliding up under the flimsy fabric of your tee shirt. His wrists brought the shirt upwards as his hands slipped further up your torso, exposing your stomach to the cold air and sending a wave of goosebumps scattering about your heated skin.</p><p>“What’s wrong?” He asked, thumbs still tracing at the underside of your bra like he wanted to continue.</p><p>But you didn’t really have an answer for him. You only knew that this… <em> this </em> didn’t feel right. It was something in the air that was off, lingering heavy, awkward, and unmoving. Your heart was in your throat, mouth opening and closing as you try to make up an excuse that won’t offend him.</p><p>“I’m… on my period.” You mutter with adverting eyes, scanning over the lean muscles in his chest.</p><p>“Oh, um —”</p><p>“Sorry,” You give him a slight smile, hoping your insincerity wasn’t in any way visible or obvious. </p><p><em> Your </em> uncomfortability wasn’t obvious, but his most definitely <em> was </em> . His legs were shifting around and readjusting beneath you, hips bumping up against your ass like he was <em> trying </em> to make you aware of his hard on. But it wasn’t easy to miss. Your bottom was pressed right against it, and any movement that either of you made sent it rutting into you more.</p><p>“You couldn’t have, you know, told me <em> earlier </em>?” He says, voice straining as he continues to squirm around beneath you.</p><p>His ‘convincing’ to continue was doing the exact opposite of what he hoped for. Every grind of his hips had you stiffening atop of him and internally cringing at the intrusion. And instead of acting like a ‘blushing virgin’, you were an ‘ungiving, unpleasantly rigid, uncooperative, bitch’... or that’s at least what you assumed he was thinking.</p><p>“I’m sorry, it slipped my mind.” You weakly point to your head in gesture.</p><p>But what <em> actually </em> slipped your mind, was the fact that you haven’t told him yet. And that fact was the cause of <em> many </em> of your problems at that moment. Perhaps, if you were experienced, you wouldn’t be feeling guilty stopping him, because the whole ‘stopping him’ aspect wouldn’t have happened. And maybe, you would have had sex with him instead of worrying about how bad it’ll hurt or if your acting skills are matching up with your lie.</p><p>“You — <em> we </em> — could still… you know…”</p><p>And even though you knew exactly what he was referring to, you played your innocence to your advantage in a desperate attempt to keep the conversation awkward and kill the mood.</p><p>“What?” Your hands fall down to his chest, his heart thumping under the palm of your right hand. You choose to look into his eyes but focus on the warmth beneath your fingertips.</p><p>His own palms drop from your sides to your thighs, running up and down them as he sucks in a deep breath of what could easily come off as annoyance.</p><p>“Ah, nevermind. You gotta go soon anyway, right?” He speaks into his exhale, taking his hands off your legs and onto the couch cushion beneath him.</p><p>Then, like he’s trying to slide you off him, he begins to stand up in his seat. Your hands grip his shoulders as you bring your feet to the floor so you aren’t dropped to it. </p><p>“Um, maybe. What time is it?” You scan over the couch and tabletop for your phone.</p><p>But he’s already got his in his hand, checking it briefly before shoving it back into his back pocket. He wipes his hands on his pants.</p><p>“Just past 7.”</p><p>“Oh, yeah, then… I got to go.” You give him a soft smile as your phone reaches your eyesight.</p><p>There’s a moment of uncomfortable silence as you slip your shoes on, making you sweat. He lets you out, still shirtless as he holds the door open. There’s a brief exchange of sheepish waves and tight lipped smiles before the door closes on you.</p><p>Only <em> after </em> you’d left his house, did your brain come out of its inconvenient fog. This — <em> that </em> — didn’t feel right because you didn’t know how it should feel. Panic had run through you as a defense response, not because anything he did was necessarily <em> wrong </em> , but because you had no idea if it was <em> right </em>. </p><p>There’s an unsatisfied feeling in the pit of your stomach that gurgles up in your throat and makes you cringe. Your nose crinkles as you step down his porch, your arms cross over each other. For some reason, you feel like you’ve disappointed him. You almost turn the blame onto you, like you had an obligation to please him and your inexperience made you back out of it. </p><p>The air remained cumbersome, even as you drove home alone. You were passing the moments through your head, envisioning yourself laid out on his couch if you had chosen to give in. You could almost see it in front of you, pictured out just past the steering wheel and among the street.</p><p>You bet it could’ve been nice. You would never have to tell him, you could’ve played your cards well enough to feint your understanding. Maybe that’ll feel better, to have him disappointed in your sexual expertise over the entire lack of sex as a whole.</p><p>So, you were down to a few choices. You could tell him, and it wouldn’t be that hard to. You could let him live out that perverted male fantasy of taking a girl’s virginity… unless he doesn’t have that fantasy and finds your innocence unsettling rather than admirable. </p><p>You could avoid it, and just let him think what he wants to think. Maybe you’ll pass as someone who knows what they’re doing and it’ll all end up alright. You’ll convince him and get the first time out of the way without anyone knowing. Two birds, one stone.</p><p>Lastly, you could lose it, to someone other than him, and avoid that awkward silence of figuring out what to do. You’d be comfortable and he’d be comfortable. And that makes perfect sense until it comes back down to the fact that you’d still have to lose it to someone, and you’d be stuck in a loop.</p><p>No matter the option you chose, the first decision you make is to ask. You need to hear what it’s like… that could be the defining factor. Yes, you’ve heard girl sex-talk at sleepovers before, but that wasn’t <em> real </em>, that was fabricated to fit whatever other girls wanted to hear… what was acceptable to hear.</p><p>You need to know before you could decide anything else. And you need to know soon because every passing minute with him sends you an inch closer to that moment.</p><p>It was 6:30 when you got home, you checked the clock on the oven.</p><p>***</p><p>Mikasa comes over on a Monday.</p><p>The air is stale and cold, littered with the freshly fallen leaves of early fall. Her scarf is pulled over her chin when you open the door, chilling gusts of wind swirling around both of you as you let her in. Her hair had flicked into her eyes but was easily shaken aside; she’d cut it short a while back. It suits her. </p><p>“Someone almost hit me on the way here.” She smiles, unwrapping the crimson scarf and tugging off her jacket to hang both of them on a coat hook. Her nose is red with cold. The time from her house to your own wasn’t nearly enough to heat her car.</p><p>“What’d you do to them?” You tease, quirking a brow as she turns to look at you.</p><p>She rolls her eyes, “Nothing.”</p><p>On Saturday, you asked for her help in registering for a summer class. You told her you couldn’t figure out the school’s website and she was more than willing to help you. She brought along her school bag, hanging heavily off her shoulders and filled with textbooks and her laptop. She was always willing to help you, which is why you chose <em> her </em> as the one to talk with. She’s a brutally honest person, she’s not afraid of hurting your feelings if it convinces you to make the best decision.</p><p>But still lingering in your mind is the fear that she won’t give you a solid answer because of her viewpoint on your decisions. Or that she’ll give you that look that says you <em> ‘why are you even asking me this?’ </em></p><p>You finger the knuckles of your hand nervously as she takes a seat on your bed, pulling her book bag with her and setting it beside her hip as she unzips it. After sliding your laptop off your desk, you sit cross-legged beside her.</p><p>“What course are you registering for?” She asks, folding open her computer and clicking at random buttons to wake it up.</p><p>“Oh, I’m just switching my minor from Russian to French.” You say, mirroring her actions.</p><p>You need to bring up your intentions before you switch your courses. You weren’t taking Russian, you weren’t even taking a <em> language </em>, so it would be rather hard to switch a class you don't have that you don’t have to a class you don’t need to take. So, as she types in her password, you bring it up.</p><p>“You’re not a virgin, right?” You ask. The moment those words leave your lips you regret them. The back of your neck grows hot and itchy and you can’t even look at her. You feel a laugh bubbling in your throat, a nervous laugh.</p><p>“Correct…” There’s a twinge of confusion in her voice as if she’s asking you a question. She eyes you from the side, her mouth quirks into a crooked smile. The dull light of her computer lights up her face as it turns on. </p><p>You don’t press at the keys, you just sit in silence and hope the words come out right, “Can I tell you something?”</p><p>“You’re a virgin.” She says without looking to you, just sliding her finger over the mouse pad and eyes scanning over the screen.</p><p>You could almost feel the air in your lungs get sucked out, almost audibly gasping at her statement as if what she said was a surprise to you. It wasn’t what she said, it was the fact that she said it. You haven’t told anyone, but you also haven’t said anything for her to assume otherwise.</p><p>“How- how’d you know that… that’s what I was going to say?” You close your computer and turn to her, hesitating for a moment before closing hers as well. She furrows her brows.</p><p>Slowly, she shifts around to face you, “It wasn’t hard to figure out. You were obvious about bringing it up.” She shrugs, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.</p><p>You shut your eyes and let out a laughing exhale, “Yeah, well... <em> yeah </em>.”</p><p>She didn’t judge. She was more skeptical about your approach to the conversation more than anything. Her expression was blank, lips only quirking into a smile whenever you poke fun at yourself. </p><p>“What… did it feel like, the first time?” You ask her, lowering your voice as if the door to your room wasn’t closed.</p><p>“It hurt a little, was kind of uncomfortable, but then it felt good. Took a few more times before it stopped hurting.” She says it like nothing like she was making small talk. </p><p>You knew that. You heard all the horror stories about unbearable pain and the bleeding, then the cramping and soreness that followed the day after. </p><p>“Did you bleed?” </p><p>“No. Most people don’t. You probably ‘popped your cherry’ while riding a bike or something.” She smiles softly, “Are you and...<em> Owen </em> -?”</p><p>“Owen.” You confirm.</p><p>“Are you and <em> Owen… </em> planning on…” She trails off, hoping you get what she’s picking at.</p><p>The thing is that you weren’t planning on it. It was just something lingering in the air, waiting to happen. It felt normalized… like it was just up to time, for now. You’ve never discussed planning it before, the same way you don’t plan on kissing or feeling each other up, but the thought of <em> planning </em> just sends another wave of confusion through you.</p><p>“Not exactly. But it’s like… there, I guess.” You shrug.</p><p>Maybe planning could be a decent idea. That would give you a set date that you could prepare for, compared to that rush of worried adrenaline that runs through you every time before you hang out with him.</p><p>“Oh, so he’s getting touchy.” She doesn’t ask this as a question, more a statement. Like she knows exactly what you’re talking about as if she’s experienced it.</p><p>“Yeah,”</p><p>“Don’t let him force you.” She adds, shaking her head along with her statement.</p><p>“I know,” You give her a gentle smile, “Can you tell me what to do? Or like how to… <em> do good </em>?”</p><p>She lets out a breathy chuckle, eyes crinkling at the corners as she smiles, “Just ask him.”</p><p>“No!” Your eyebrows rise into your forehead, “<em> No </em>. He can’t know.”</p><p>“Why not?” She seems surprised by your disapproval of her suggestion.</p><p>“I’m<em> 19, </em>Mikasa. He’d make fun of me or something. That’s old - to lose your virginity, that is.”</p><p>She takes notice of your insecurity, your shoulders curling in on themselves, and the cracking of your knuckles even though they popped just moments before. Your eyes were flitting over your bedsheets.</p><p>“I mean, yeah. But he’s a nice guy, right?” She almost seems unsure with her question.</p><p>“I guess…”</p><p>“You <em> ‘guess’ </em>?” She exclaims.</p><p>“Yes! Yes, he is nice. I just… don’t want to embarrass myself.” You explain, “I like him, and I guess a part of me wants to… <em> impress </em> him.”</p><p>“I don’t know why you won’t just tell him… I’d tell him. It would be -”</p><p>“I know you would.” You interrupt, “But I’m not going to. You could just teach me or something and I’d be fine.”</p><p>“You’re asking me this like I’m some… <em> sex symbol </em>,” She begins to laugh, “or something.”</p><p>“Mikasa, you’re the only person I can ask. Even asking <em> you </em> had me shitting myself.” </p><p>“You know who you <em> could </em> ask?” She disregards your past statement, “Eren.”</p><p>Your eyes shut, mouth dropping open in disapproval… horror… <em> something </em>. You give yourself a moment before responding, thinking over her words and trying to figure out if she was serious.</p><p>Eren. </p><p>You realize she was serious. Because Eren, out of all the people you know, would most definitely be the one with experience, with sex knowledge and expertise and everything. You cringe while thinking about it, not because it’s gross, per se, but because that’s your friend. That’s someone you used to take baths with when you were little, played around in the mud with, and made firepit soup concoctions out of twigs and fallen leaves.</p><p>“No.” You say, refusing to elaborate to attempt to stop her in her tracks.</p><p>“Listen,” Her tone falls flat, “It makes sense. Put the sexual-ness aside and look at the logistics. He would be the best person to ask…”</p><p>In a way, she was right. Eren was known in your friend group for the copious amount of girls that throw themselves at him. It was like a giant inside joke. The way girls at the mall or in the city would giggle and whisper amongst each other at the sight of him had all of you poking fun at the boy. Connie even went so far as saying, <em> ‘it’s like they can sense his stroke game’ </em>. But it wasn’t just his stroke game, even though you all say it is; Eren’s attractive, sexual-ness aside… just logistics.</p><p>“Mikasa, that’s… so weird.” You recoil, trying to act as if you weren’t just considering it.</p><p>“I <em> just </em> said to put the awkwardness aside.”</p><p>She was right, again, but it would be hard to do what she says. Eren would make it into a little game and tease you about it, not necessarily in a mean way, but in a way that would keep you on your toes and make you sweat. In a way that would make you regret asking him because you’d be so humiliated in doing so. He wouldn’t tease at the fact that you’re a virgin, he’d tease you about coming to <em> him </em>.</p><p>Which, in a way, would almost be better.</p><p>***</p><p>“Jean, can you call him or something? He’s not answering my texts.” Sasha groans, letting her head fall back onto the armrest of the loveseat she’s stretched out on. Her thumbs twiddle away at her phone as she spams Eren’s messages, noticeably pissed off.</p><p>She had planned to leave for the city at 3:30, leaving enough travel and park time to be able to visit a few places and get food before sunset. She had a whole little list of things she wanted to do, from visiting a museum to walking the boardwalk. And she was so excited about it, eyes lighting up all week whenever someone would bring up her plans.</p><p>“<em> You </em> call him.” Jean responds, standing against the opposite armrest, “I’m not trying to get cussed out.”</p><p>It’s just past 4:15 when Connie begins to pace the length of the sofa, Sasha’s eyes following him through every step. Armin and Mikasa sit patiently on the floor, sitting across from each other as they seem to talk about Armin’s geography course. Your arms are splayed out across the headrest of the same couch everyone’s gravitated towards, standing behind it and letting the heels of your palms bear the forward weight.</p><p>Every so often, someone scoffs, followed by a collective series of ‘<em> yep </em> ’ and ‘ <em> I know </em>’s’. And everyone’s at a standstill, waiting for Eren, who is now almost an hour late, until Armin lays out onto the carpeted floor with a groan.</p><p>“Someone should go to his house. Maybe something’s wrong.” Armin lays a forearm over his eyes as he speaks.</p><p>“Nothing’s wrong, Armin, but that could be a good idea.” Sasha mumbles, sitting upright. Her hair fanned out of her face from her former position.</p><p>What a ‘good idea’ was for you to go and pick him up, realize he’s fine, then listen to Mikasa and ask him what you need to ask him on the ride home. Then the rest of the night won’t be awkward because there won’t be a single moment of silence thanks to the others, and you won’t be stuck alone with him.</p><p>“Armin, go pick him up.” Jean says, not even asking, more telling. He moves Sasha’s legs aside to replace them on the couch.</p><p>“Mikasa drove me.” Armin says.</p><p>“Then both of you go.”</p><p>“I’ll get him.” You mumble, tugging your keys out of your pocket and pulling away from the couch, refusing to make eye contact with anyone them</p><p>“Yay! Text me on your way back.” Sasha gives your arm a little slap over the couch before you slip past Jean and towards the door. You give them a small wave before closing it behind you.</p><p>You could feel your chest beginning to swell with that nervous excitement, fizzing deep down and wrapping around your lungs and squeezing. On the ride over, your leg bounces against the footrest, knee knocking against the wheel that your hands grip until your knuckles flush light. There’s a restricted part inside you that hopes he’s not home, that he’s out and completely forgot, mainly because this conversation has been something you’ve been dreading since Mikasa brought it up. </p><p>All week, whenever Mikasa’s words slipped back into your head, you physically winced. Your neck and chest got hot and you forced yourself to think over what you’re going to say or ask, or <em> anything </em>.</p><p>Your chest squeezes again when you pull into his building’s neighborhood.</p><p>“Identification, please.” The gatekeeper asks. It sounds fancier then it is.</p><p>Eren lives South of both Sasha and the city, in a little suburban neighborhood of nice apartment buildings that resemble giant, symmetrical houses. There was a pool, and a tennis court, but living there wasn’t expensive. You’ve only been to his house to see Mikasa, for she was fostered by his family until she was old enough to move out. The only way you could describe it was warm; littered with books and large house plants that his mom insisted they need. </p><p>His parents moved out shortly after Mikasa did, to a homestead planted upon rolling hills in the country. It was far from the city and the cattle, the fields, the way the stars were visible at night thanks to the absence of light pollution… it was everything his mother wanted, so they moved. </p><p>Eren lives by himself now, still tucked away in their cozy little apartment that they can still manage to afford thanks to his father’s occupation.</p><p>And then, you’re pulling in front of Eren’s building. It was bordering a silhouette, the sun setting deep in the horizon and flaring out behind it. You think you can see his unit light on, and your guess is only confirmed when you’re standing in front of his door and peering at the sliver of light that slips under it.</p><p>You knock a few times in a pattern, “Eren.”</p><p>You can hear movement, the shuffling of feet that’s followed by laughter.</p><p>“Eren.” You knock again.</p><p>Before you can pull your hand from the door, it’s swung open. Eren stands with his hand still wrapped around the knob, hair disheveled and in disarray so that the hair tie that’s at the back of his head serves almost no purpose. His shirt is crooked, his neckline slanted over his shoulders, and his sweatpants lay low on his hips.</p><p>“Hey... um, shit, what time is it?” He asks, other hand coming to rest on the doorframe. You can only look at him for a moment. His eyes are glossy, lips pink and slightly purpled. </p><p>“Late.” You say, looking up to him.</p><p>His nose scrunches, eyes squinting before he responds, “Sasha?”</p><p>“Mad.”</p><p>“Eren!” There’s a voice from behind him, light and femine, playful. She’s slightly out of breath, you can tell, her voice strained and giggly. You press your lips into a line upon realization.</p><p>“I’ll wait in the car.” You say lowly. He pauses, but only for a moment to nod, then gently shuts the door in front of you.</p><p>You let out a gentle huff of air. Something lurks in the pit of your stomach, spiraling up into your throat and leaving a bad taste in your mouth. It was unsettling, but it <em> was </em> the reason why you were asking him. It was just further confirmation that he knows what he’s doing. But you couldn’t help but feel weird.</p><p>His disorderly appearance is fixed when he leaves his building, a pretty blonde girl following behind him like a puppy. She was tiny, big blue eyes scanning over his figure as he kisses her on the top of her head. She squeezes his bicep before bouncing away to her car, little and pretty like her.</p><p>You unlock your doors when Eren gives the hood of your car a pat, and he pulls open the door and slides into the passenger seat.</p><p>His hair was still messy, but it was always that way; pulled back out of his face, but some of the hair was still too short to reach the hair tie and lays against his face or down the back of his neck.</p><p>“She’s pretty.” You say, shifting the car into gear and turning the wheel, knuckles lightening.</p><p>The condition you found him in was rather suiting, and for some odd reason, you were almost thankful for it. It would be a good transition into what you need to bring up.</p><p>“Yeah… her name’s Historia.” He smiles, shifting around to pull his seat belt across him. The windbreaker that he has over a pale sweatshirt rustles as his arms move.</p><p>“What happened to Christa?” You ask, lips quirking into a smirk as you tease him.</p><p>“She was just a friend. So is Historia! Don’t- don’t think the wrong thing.” He laughs.</p><p>“<em> Good </em> friend, hm?” You take your eyes off the road for a moment to look at him. His face is flushed pink, confident demeanor being pulled and prodded at as you have your fun.</p><p>The atmosphere was light, and you’re thankful for it. Without the fizz of laughter, you don’t think you’d be able to have the next conversation. </p><p>“Enough.” He shakes his head, still smiling softly and poking on the radio.</p><p>You go over your words in your head once more before going for it, caution was thrown into the wind, “That has me thinking,” You begin.</p><p>“Don’t hurt yourself.”</p><p>“<em> Hey </em> ,” You glance to him, which was a bad idea. His jade eyes were staring back at you, sending a tense jolt of energy through your body, “What <em> is </em> sex like for guys.”</p><p>He laughs, turning away from you and looking out the window, “It’s good… yeah, it’s pretty good. Much better then my hand in my opinion.”</p><p>“Eren,” You crinkle your nose in fake disgust.</p><p>“Are you asking what it feels like?” He turns back, looking to you through your rearview mirror, resting his forearm on the center console.</p><p>“Sure.”</p><p>“Well,” He starts, face turning pinker and hiding a smile, “It’s… <em> warm </em> … and <em> wet </em> , like <em> really </em> wet.” He lets out a soft laugh, “And, like… soft?”</p><p>“Interesting” You giggle, hands circling the wheel as you make a turn.</p><p>You realize that you have no reason to be nervous with him, the same way you have no reason to be nervous with Mikasa. You keep reminding yourself that this is your <em> friend </em> , you grew up with this boy… there’s no reason to be afraid of asking him <em> anything </em> . You know him, he’s a good person. You’ve seen him sweaty and covered in dirt after his little league soccer games; covered in asphalt stains and scraped up after falling off his bike; fingernails dirty and hands dusty from woodchips at elementary recess. You <em> know </em> him.</p><p>You’re in Sasha’s neighborhood when one of you speaks again.</p><p>“What about you? What’s sex like for girls?” He asks.</p><p>Your stomach drops. You hope your shock isn’t expressed on your face and you hope he can’t see the way your leg begins to bounce against the floor again. He’s still smiling, looking down at his hands before he looks up to you. You’re driving on automatic, not even thinking about what you’re doing.</p><p>“Um…”</p><p>“Hey! Where were you!” Connie slaps against Eren’s window, pulling you out of whatever world you just disappeared to. </p><p>You’re in Sasha’s driveway.</p><p>“I uh,” Eren glances to you, smirking, “fell asleep.”</p><p>The rest of them come out of Sasha’s house, swarming the car and pressing their faces up against the windows, fogging them up. As you roll yours down, Sasha’s fingers curl over the glass.</p><p>“Can we take your car? There’s seven of us, we won’t fit in any of the other’s car’s and no one wants to take two.” She mumbles, a convincing pout on her face.</p><p>You lean back in your seat, taking your hands off the wheel and setting them in your lap as you nod. You unlock the door.</p><p>You can trust Eren, and that this can be much easier then you thought. You could ask him what guys like, maybe ask about other things like… dirty talk or kinks or even <em> anal </em> … and then you’d be on your way with Owen. You could easily play the virgin who somehow has an idea of what they’re doing, or you could be the girl that truly <em> does </em> know what she’s doing… so well to the point where questions about the origins of your experience go out the door.</p><p>Eren wouldn’t tell anyone. He doesn’t get too close with the girls he meets up with, and the only other people he would tell are the people you’re both with right now. And them finding out that you’re a virgin wouldn’t be nearly as bad as the embarrassment of being bad at sex.</p><p>So when you finally gain the courage and push yourself to ask him more, it’ll work out.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. The Beginning</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>When Reader's boy to be asks her to link, Reader begins to panic and goes to the only person who she knows can teach her, Eren.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The night was old when you returned to Sasha’s. Everyone’s eyes were lidded heavy, glossed over with exhaustion and satisfaction. Dinner was had much later than expected, your stomachs still contently full, sleepily full. </p><p>You drove home. The flashing traffic lights and highway lamps still float around in your vision. It was quiet, only the low hums of passing cars and dull singing of the radio filled your head. Connie and Sasha were pressed up against each other with their eyes shut and heads rocking together with every bump in the road, it didn’t wake them. The others had this faraway look in their eyes as they gazed out the windows, their heads lolled back against the headrest as they watch the traffic with murky eyes.</p><p>Eren sat beside you in the passenger seat. His eyes fluttered shut every so often, but you knew he wasn’t asleep. His formerly tense features were soft as he stared through the windshield and to the street ahead. He had his arms crossed over his chest as he slouched low enough in the seat to rest his head back against the backrest.</p><p>“You can sleep. I won’t crash, promise.” You smiled softly, speaking just as so. You said it loud enough for the others to hear, but it was directed to Eren. In the rearview mirror, you saw Jean close his eyes in the seat behind you, temple pressed against the frosty glass of the window.</p><p>It was quiet when you bumped over the sidewalk and into the driveway. Jean’s eyes had fluttered awake from the jolts. Eren spaced out ahead, the warm lighting of the overheads illuminating the angles in his face as he stared at the garage. Armin turned around in his seat to kindly shake the sleeping pair awake, Mikasa watched him.</p><p>Sasha and Connie’s voices were low as they muttered sleepy nonsense to each other while they stumbled out of the side door. Armin and Jean followed them shortly after, leaving you, Mikasa, and Eren in the car.</p><p>“Are you staying?” Mikasa asks, crawling up from the backseat to lean between you and Eren.</p><p>You give her a nod before unbuckling, pulling your keys from the ignition, and sliding out of the car. Fatigue causes Eren to hesitate for a moment before following you and Mikasa out. The night breeze curled his hair around his cheeks.</p><p>“‘Ren you need a ride home?” You ask, coming up beside him as he walks up Sasha’s porch.</p><p>When he meets the door he stops and turns to look at you. His eyes are soft as they flit over your features, lit up by the porch light. It like that for a moment and nothing more, a comfortable glancing between the two of you. It phases neither of you, too tired to care.</p><p>“No, thanks.” He says, smiling softly, “I’ll get someone to drive me.”</p><p>The other boys are gathered in the foyer as you pull yourself into the warmth of her house, Sasha has escaped off to her room already.</p><p>“He’s outside and needs a ride,” Mikasa says, tugging her shoes off with her opposite foot. They all nod before filing out past her.</p><p>“Armin?” You ask her, closing the screen door before the main one.</p><p>“Jean’s got him.”</p><p>With a subtle nod, you close the larger door before turning the lock closed.</p><p>The only lights in the house were those coming from Sasha’s room upstairs and the one down the hall, in the kitchen, above the oven. It was a weird feeling, strange and comforting to see her house in such a calm and domestic state. It was usually so lively, the air full of delicious smells thanks to her mother who was a caterer; and then her siblings, a few younger and a few older, always chasing each other around and starting fights over minuscule things. </p><p>At night, like this, it was eerily quiet as you and Mikasa tip-toed past the kitchen and to the stairwell. It felt like the house itself, as an object, was asleep. It was breathing, groaning as it settled further into its bed of Earth. The wooden floors creaked with every step.</p><p>You could hear the faint talking of the television as you got atop the stairs. It came from one of her brothers’ rooms. Sasha herself was sitting at the edge of her bed and slipping off her boots before falling back into the puffy sheets. She had her bedside lamp on.</p><p>“My feet hurt so bad.” She groans, curling up into a fetal position as she faces you. She grabs her feet in her hands and shuts her eyes.</p><p>“You were the one that chose to park a good mile away from where you wanted dinner.” Mikasa smiles and sets her bag to the floor beside a light grey beanbag.</p><p>Sasha sits up, hair tousled from her sheets and the long day, “It was worth it.”</p><p>Her eyes were droopy, a drunken smile on her face as she carefully lays herself back down. Her limbs were sore, heavy as she had tried to hold them up, then all the tension was gone as they rest on the bed beside her.</p><p>Mikasa shrugs off her jacket and sets it beside her shoes, her scarf following.</p><p>“Sash, can I borrow shorts? This shirt will be fine. I’m in jeans though.” She asks. She had on a pair of dark jeans that, from the knee, went straight down to her ankles; and a form-fitting white tee shirt that was a fabric that felt a little too soft to actually be classified as a tee shirt.</p><p>Sasha slides off her bed and trudges across the room as if her feet weighed a hundred pounds. She rummages through a large drawer in the bottom of her dresser before throwing Mikasa a pair of grey shorts.</p><p>“You need anything?” She asks, still bent over the drawer but tilting her head to you.</p><p>You look to what you’re wearing: a pair of faded, forest green sweats that were your mother’s in college. And below your windbreaker was an ash grey tee shirt from a vacation you took just after your junior year of high school, the cream plastered lettering was just beginning to flake off from many trips in the washing machine. It was to Niagara Falls. </p><p>“No, thanks.” You slip off your jacket along with your shoes and place them beside her door.</p><p>You take a seat on the side of Sasha’s bed, knees pulled up to your chest, as she and Mikasa begin to strip.</p><p>You were pretty, you knew that... people told you all the time. But watching them was different than watching yourself in the mirror. When your eyes flit over their smooth skin and toned bodies you couldn’t look away, but when you caught a glimpse of yourself in your mirror you easily could. It was just… different. </p><p>Mikasa’s body was lean and toned from countless years of track and field. And even though she only joined because Eren did, she was still a natural. After a successful high school season, she got a scholarship to a college close to home… and she took it. Her body kept up with it, only growing fitter as time went on.</p><p>And Sasha… Sasha played soccer up until last year, quitting after sustaining a broken rib. The sport left her with long, muscular legs and wide hips, but also plenty of emotional issues that fed into her eagerness to please.</p><p>“That’s a dark hickey you got there, Sash.” Mikasa chuckles, slipping the borrowed shorts over her legs.</p><p>You glance to Sasha, who was now only clad in a sports bra and panties, a tee-shirt in her hand. Below her left collarbone was a dark, splotchy purple mark, and as your eyes scanned over her figure further, you found more, similar marks along her stomach and thighs.</p><p>“Hey!” She squeals, fumbling with her shirt to pull it over her head. But the shirt only does half the work, her thighs still littered with love bites.</p><p>“Didn’t know Nic was a biter.” You snicker, rolling onto your stomach and reaching over to pinch one of her thighs.</p><p>“Stop!” She giggles, shooing your hand away as she snatches a pair of sweats from her open drawer.</p><p>Mikasa had plopped down onto the large beanbag, a sweet smile on her face as the two of you poked fun at Sasha.</p><p>“He’s not <em> that </em> rough, he’s more fun than anything.” She explains, face turning pink. Nic was a boy that she shared a culinary class with. He’s a junior to her sophomore, but he’s treated her well.</p><p>“Don’t act like you’ve never gotten a hickey before.” She adds. </p><p>Mikasa shoots you a glance, just out of Sasha’s eyesight. It’s playful, teasing like she’s got something up her sleeve. The corners of her eyes crinkle as her lips turn to a smirk.</p><p><em> ‘No’ </em> You mouth, unknowing of her thoughts, but still concerned.</p><p>“Sash, guess what.” She smiles, still looking at you as she talks to the other girl.</p><p>“Mika—”</p><p>“She’s a virgin.” Mikasa deadpans, sitting back in her bean bag with her arms crossed over her chest like she’s proud of herself.</p><p>“Mikasa!” You groan, covering your face in your hands and rubbing at your eyes.</p><p>Sasha whips around, still clothed in only a shirt and panties. Her mouth has fallen open, corners quirked into a crooked smile, and her eyebrows raised into her forehead. </p><p>“You are?!” She shrieks, jumping onto the bed beside you and grabbing for your wrists that still cover your face.</p><p>You can feel your body begin to heat up, the fabric touching your torso and legs becoming all too tight. Sasha takes your hands in hers and shakes them around all excitedly.</p><p>“That’s so sweet!” She’s scooting closer and closer to you, a big grin on her face.</p><p>“No, it’s really not.” You cringe, letting her take your hands without a fight.</p><p>She means well, both of them do, but this embarrassment wasn’t necessary.</p><p>“I told her because she can <em> help </em>,” Mikasa says, pulling herself out of her seat and sitting beside you and Sasha on the bed.</p><p>“Help with what?” Sasha’s head tilts in confusion as her eyes shift between you and Mikasa.</p><p>You let Mikasa explain your situation, and somehow she manages to do it much better than you ever could have. Every sentence or two she’ll glance over to you to make sure what she’s saying matches up with what you’re thinking. Sasha watches her intently, nodding along to let the both of you know that she’s not only listening but understanding. Both of their voices are gentle and comforting, in no way are they demeaning or judgemental, and it feels good. </p><p>Sasha keeps ahold of your hands throughout the conversation, even when they get clammy. Her thumbs trace gentle circles along your wrists like she’s reminding you that she’s there, pulling you out of your head. Internally, you thank her for it. You could easily get lost while thinking about your little plan that you wanted to forget, that you <em> did </em> forget while in the city. </p><p>“So, we’re… teaching her?” Sasha asks, “But we’re girls and he’s a guy…”</p><p>“She just wants to know how to like… give head and what to do during it,” Mikasa looks to you, “Does that sound right?”</p><p>You nod, smiling slightly. The former surging of anxiety dissipates into curiosity and excitement.</p><p>“Stop! Let me — can I do a demonstration?” Sasha releases your hands as she laughs. She stands up on her knees and shifts her weight from one to the other.</p><p>Mikasa’s eyes go wide as Sasha climbs off the bed and stumbles around her room to look for something.</p><p>“Do not!” You laugh, crinkling your nose in fake disgust. A little part of your brain is slightly intrigued by her words and you wonder what on Earth she could be looking for.</p><p>But she returns, with a pink hairbrush in her hand, and sits with her legs crossed on her bed. Then, she turns the hairbrush upside down, handle side pointing to the ceiling.</p><p>“Sasha…” Mikasa rubs her hand against her forehead in annoyance, but she hides a sweet and playful smile.</p><p>Sasha gets herself settled, sliding her legs off the bed so her knees rest on the ground but her chest is pressed into the sheets. Her forearms hold her up slightly so her head is in line with the tip of the brush handle.</p><p>“Okay, pay attention.” She giggles, “Have you ever given a handjob?”</p><p>“Um, not exactly,” You say, “It was — well it was —”</p><p>“Nevermind! We’re just going to start.” She grins, “First!” She takes her right hand and places it at the base of the handle, “Get ahold of him. This is your anchor to make sure it doesn’t slip out or anything.”</p><p>She continues on for a while, but constantly gets distracted by her own jokes and laughter so that her demonstration never really went anywhere. The three of you just couldn’t sit still, every movement she made had you all cackling in hysterics to the point where she couldn’t keep her mouth around the brush handle without bursting out laughing. </p><p>You only pick up a few things from her little lesson like: <em> ‘absolutely do not use teeth’ </em> or <em> ‘hold your thumb to not gag’ </em>. But anything else was just muffled by the plastic handle or laughter. </p><p>After a particularly funny addition to her demonstration, you all collapsed into laughter, completely unable to return on track. And when the laughter died down and your breathing regulated, none of you could get yourselves back upright. So, you all lay beside each other on the bed, twisted into each other’s limbs as you let out breathy and tired giggles in reminiscence. </p><p>“You’ll be fine,” Mikasa says, her hands tucked under her face and eyes closed. </p><p>You nod, smiling softly as her own smile fades to a flat line as she slips into sleep. </p><p>***</p><p>
  <b> <em>‘come over on tuesday, i got the house to myself.’</em> </b>
</p><p>You could feel your breath catch in your throat as you read his message. The panic begins to set in after you set your phone back down onto your bed.</p><p>It’s Sunday. That’s two days from now. </p><p>Two days from now you’re going to be in Owen’s house and his hands will be all over your body, lips on your neck, and he’ll want to go farther than before. He’ll want to go past the gentle grinding and making out and you’re not ready for that yet. You’re nowhere near where you would want to be when he sends you that message.</p><p>“Fuck.” You mutter.</p><p>Mikasa and Sasha weren’t much help. You couldn’t pick up anything from them. And your conservation with Eren didn’t go too well either.</p><p>
  <em> Eren. </em>
</p><p>You pick your phone back up and press on his contact, running off adrenaline and not even bothering to think before you do.</p><p>
  <b> <em>‘can we talk?’</em> </b>
</p><p>You stare at the three little dots moving in the bottom corner.</p><p>
  <b> <em>‘yeah, what’s up?’</em> </b>
</p><p>You don’t even respond to him. In a rush, you grab your keys, get in the car, and drive to his complex without a second thought. You hope that he’s home, you hope that the girl from the other day wasn’t over at his house, and you’re praying that he’s in the mood to help.</p><p>It was 2 pm, and you hadn’t expected to find him still in a barely awake state. His hair was a mess, face still puffy and smoothed over by sleep. He almost looked peaceful.</p><p>“Can we talk?” You ask him, voice quiet and light as you speak to the sleep disheveled boy in front of you.</p><p>“What’s wrong?” Eren asks, visibly concerned.</p><p>You look like a hunted deer that was just shot, practically cowering before him and playing with your fingers as you think over your words.</p><p>“I um —” You start, but you can’t even get it out. It wasn’t even on the tip of your tongue, it was all the way back in your throat and begging to stay there.</p><p>“C’mon…” Eren encourages, nodding with his head. His own thoughts were rushing around in a tizzy. He can’t think of anything he’s done wrong or anything he’s said that could have hurt you… were you mad at him about something?</p><p>“You can’t make fun of me,” You mumble, looking to the side and breaking eye contact.</p><p>“Why would I make fun of you?”</p><p>“I don’t know…” You look back at him.</p><p>He was intimidating, but he wasn’t scary. Yes, he has his moments where he's angry and unpredictable but he’d never hurt you on purpose… so why did you think he’d do so now? His eyes are kind and almost worrisome as he looks back at you, maybe there’s a hint of fear in them too like he’s afraid of what <em> you </em> have to say.</p><p>Your eyes scan over the door, then down the hallway like you're looking to see if someone else is listening. Then, you put your hands to his shoulders and push him inside. Eren gives easily, stepping back as you keep putting pressure on his body and you close the door once your both inside.</p><p>“I — you know how I’ve been seeing… this guy?” You say, speaking with your hands. It’s a nervous habit you’ve never been able to break.</p><p>“Owen,” Eren says.</p><p>“Yeah, well… um. Shit, I don’t know how to start this.” You mutter.</p><p>“Just talk, I’ll just listen.”</p><p>“Okay — so, well, we’ve been together for a while… and I feel like, maybe, he’s wanting to go… <em> farther </em> , with touching and everything. I’ve, shit —” You pause, looking to the floor, “I’ve never <em> done </em> any of that, like <em> anything </em> before. And <em> you </em> have, and I don’t have anyone else to ask — Mikasa and Sasha were no help. I don’t want you to think — that <em> I </em> think — that you’re some kind of whore or anything.”</p><p>Eren’s eyebrows quirk slightly, not in annoyance or offense but of confusion.</p><p>“But, I know, <em> well we all know </em> , that you’ve had like… <em> experience </em> with things. I just need you to help.”</p><p>Eren’s face relaxes, but only slightly. He looks over your figure, taking in the way your hands shake and eyes flit across his floor, the way your mouth opens and closes like you’re trying to find something to say but just can’t find the words.</p><p>“What are you saying?”</p><p>You internally groan.</p><p>“I need you to teach me how to fuck someone!” You exclaim, hands coming to your sides.</p><p>That was about as blunt as it gets. You don’t know how much longer you can go with explaining it to him without blowing a fuse. </p><p>Eren can feel his heartbeat pick up and swell for a few reasons. One, because you were confiding in him of all people. You were essentially putting your virginity in his hands, and he was letting you. He was flattered. And second, because you were a virgin. It was something he could have never expected. You’re gorgeous, only if you knew how badly the guys within your friend group want you, and you’ve never even been touched how they fantasize in their wildest dreams.</p><p>“Well, you could have just said that.” He chuckles lightly, smiling, “When are you hanging out with Owen?”</p><p>“Tuesday.” You answer.</p><p>He turns around and starts walking towards his kitchen. He tugs off the hair tie around his wrist and pulls his hair back to tie it off behind his head. You watch the lean muscles in his back ripple through his tee shirt as he pulls at the rubber band, his forearms flexing. Your eyes dart away as quick as they came to.</p><p>“Come here.” He nods to the kitchen table, taking a seat at one of the ends and pulling out the chair on his perpendicular.</p><p>Cautiously, you make your way over to him, tucking hair behind your ears as you sit in front of him.</p><p>“Before anything happens, know that I’ll never make fun of you.” He lowers his voice, resting his elbows on the table as he scoots his chair in.</p><p>“Okay.” You say, trying your best to believe what he says.</p><p>“And you have to be honest with me if you’re going to… understand.”</p><p>“Okay.”</p><p>“So, what’s the furthest you’ve gone.” He starts, smoothing out the hair atop his head back into his bun.</p><p>“Um…” You look to his hands, “Kissing.” You mutter.</p><p>Eren can feel something twisting around low in his stomach, deep and uncomfortable, but he can’t exactly pinpoint what it is. You were pure, almost completely untouched. Your body has missed the feeling of almost everything and anything. It made his chest tight.</p><p>“Shit,” He chuckles, bringing his hands back down to the table, “We have like… less than two days to figure something out.”</p><p>You can feel your cheeks heating up and you begin to pick at the skin around your nails again, “I know.”</p><p>“Okay, you’re confident with kissing I hope, yes?”</p><p>You give him an unconvincing shrug. Kissing was one of the things you know how to do, but you have zero idea of whether or not you were good. For all you know, you might be shoving your tongue down Owen’s throat and he could be hating it.</p><p>“Jesus,” Eren laughs, “Show me.”</p><p>“What?” You pause, eyes going wide. You know you signed up for embarrassment but this wasn’t really what you were thinking of.</p><p>“On your hand, kiss the back of your hand.” He says, holding up his own and placing his lips against the back of his hand just like he said, “Easy.”</p><p>For a moment, Eren thinks about letting you kiss him. It would be the easiest and most logical way to help you, he could feel what Owen would feel, think what Owen would think, and then help you. But the thought gets shuffled away when you protest his former statement, not even addressing the fact that, technically, you’re in a relationship.</p><p>“No!” You recoil, “That — that’s so embarrassing.”</p><p>“Listen to me, you need to cooperate if we’re going to get anywhere.” He huffs, sitting back in his seat and rolling his eyes.</p><p>“I didn’t think I was going to be making out with my hand!” You look up to him.</p><p>“Well, you thought wrong. This is how I practiced and I like to think I’m a good kisser, so now it’s your turn.” He adds.</p><p>You scoff, looking down at your hand then back up at him hesitantly.</p><p>“Are you serious?”</p><p>“Dead.”</p><p>You cringe, then roll your eyes, then flip your hand over, and slowly bring it towards your mouth. It’s humiliating, you try to ignore the heat building up in your cheeks and chest as you grow flushed with embarrassment. You pause just as your hand comes to meet your mouth.</p><p>“I’m not doing this.” Your tone is defensive as your hand slaps back down to your thigh.</p><p>Eren groans. That thought about kissing you flies to the front of his head again and before he was even thinking, he pushed out from his chair and grabbed your face in his hands, pressing his lips to yours. You let out a noise of protest, pushing against his chest and shoving him off you.</p><p>“Eren!” You shout, standing up out of your chair. You bring your fingers to your mouth. You felt dizzy, like he’d gone into your head and scrambled your brain to mush in the brief millisecond when your lips touched. Like a succubus. </p><p>“Sit down, I just kissed you.” He grabs the back of his chair and pulls it around the table to sit it next to yours. He hopes it’s not visible, the tingling on his mouth that is.</p><p>“I have — I’m in… Eren!” You stutter, not even able to form words.</p><p>“I’m trying to help you, and if you don’t want to kiss your hand then kiss me. There’s no other way to do it.” He sits down, reaching a hand out to you as you remain distant, “Listen to me, this is nothing other than kissing. It means nothing.”</p><p>You look over him, seeing his arm outstretched and his eyes gesturing to the seat in front of him.</p><p>It really did make sense. He was making sense. But the thought of kissing one of your best friends, your childhood friend — it had your blood running hot. You were in no position to say no to him.</p><p>Slowly, very slowly, you sit down in front of him, pushing his hand away with your own. You keep your arms crossed over your chest in defiance.</p><p>“I’m not forcing you to do this, but know that it’s… the only way I can help you.” Eren’s voice softens. He brings his hand to the edge of the seat between his legs and scoots closer, your knees knocking together. </p><p>He was so close, you could feel his body heat radiating off of him and onto you. Your knees were touching. You’ve been close to each other before, for God’s sake you’ve bathed together, but this was different.</p><p>“Okay.” You whisper, taking in a deep breath before looking at him.</p><p>“I’m going to kiss you now, okay?” He says, one of his hands coming to your right knee. It was warm, squeezing gently and covering the entire expanse of your knee.</p><p>“Okay.”</p><p>His hands come off to reach for your face, sliding against your cheek until they cup the backsides of your neck, his thumbs resting against your ears. He slips a knee between yours, bumping against your chair as he comes closer to you.  His face is inches away from yours, his pretty green eyes staring into your own, looking into your soul and pulling out your deepest insecurities. </p><p>You felt so vulnerable. You were handing yourself over to him with little hesitation, your entire confidence and self-worth felt like they were on the line. </p><p>He takes a breath before leaning in, both of you closing your eyes as your noses brush together. You can almost feel his lips hovering over yours, airy breath skimming over the soft skin. You could feel your heart slamming against your ribcage. </p><p>Then, his lips are on yours again. Soft and warm, gentle and unmoving. It has your hands dropping to your thighs and fingernails digging into the fabric. You could feel the stray hairs on his forehead tickling your hairline and cheeks. His hands were warm, and you were thankful that they were cupping your face… grounding you.</p><p>“Still okay?” He mumbles, eyes still shut as he mumbles against your lips. It sends tiny waves of electricity through you.</p><p>You nod, short and quick in his hands.</p><p>“Good, loosen up,” He doesn’t give you a chance to respond before kissing you again, a little harsher than before but still gentle.</p><p>You try and listen to him, to let your body relax and mouth soften, but it was so hard and was made even harder when you feel his tongue sliding against your lip. The little gasp you made allowed it to slip into your mouth and brush against the inside of your upper lip. Your hands falter forward to land on his knees, etching deep into the fabric and into the sinew of his thigh.</p><p>You were sucking in shaky breaths through your nose as his tongue slides against yours, warm and wet and licking into your mouth. It was almost too much. It was so different from how Owen kissed you. Owen was rushed, rough like he was running out of time and trying to get to the final destination. Eren kissed you like he had all the time in the world, his lips sliding over yours smoothly and slowly. And for some reason, that had a much greater effect on you.</p><p>Eren pulls away for a moment, resting his forehead against yours as he smiles, “You always this nervous?”</p><p>But he was out of breath too, feinting confidence. Inside, he was melting. He could feel you trembling in his hands, nervous with inexperience. It made his stomach twist.</p><p>“I — um, yeah,” You give him a nervous laugh, releasing the fabric of his sweatpants.</p><p>“Relax,” He whispers, his thumb brushing over the skin of your cheek, “You’re so tense.”</p><p>“I’m sorry,”</p><p>“Don’t be. That’s why we’re doing this… so you can learn.” He says.</p><p>His words pull you out of your fantasy, and you remember that you’re kissing him so you can kiss Owen. This didn’t mean anything, this was just going through the motions.</p><p>He drops his hands from your face to your shoulders, then slides them down your arms to take your wrists in his hands. He stands up, gently pulling you up with him. He looks into your eyes as he turns and walks back towards the living room, taking you with him, only breaking eye contact to make sure he doesn’t run into anything. He has a sweet smile on his face as he pulls you around the couch.</p><p>“Do you trust me?” He asks, letting the backs of his knees hit the couch cushion. He slides his hands to yours.</p><p>“Yeah,”</p><p>He nods, sitting down onto the couch and pulling you down with him. You stumble forward, distancing your knees from his thighs as you straddle just above his them. It was awkward, far more awkward than it was with Owen. It was like you were afraid to touch him. You let your hands rest on your thighs, trying to maintain space between you.</p><p>“C’mon,” He says, placing his hands on your waist and jerking your forward up his thighs. You were so close to him, sitting on his thighs and legs on either side of his waist. His hands felt heavy on your sides as he squeezes them soothingly.</p><p>You felt like you could throw up.</p><p>“Eren —” You whisper, tilting your head down and refusing to look into his eyes. </p><p>“Kiss me like you kiss him.” </p><p>“But, you’re my friend…”</p><p>“Yeah, and you need my help. This is me helping you.” He sits up to bring his chest closer to yours, but you back up slightly in reaction.</p><p>He can see the way your chest shakes as you breathe.</p><p>“Okay,” You mumble.</p><p>You slowly slide your hands up his chest to rest upon his shoulders, taking in the way his skin divots and curves with muscle under your fingers. When they reach the top, you lean in slowly. Eren meets you halfway, tugging on your hips and jerking you flush against him.</p><p>You kiss him harder, trying to let yourself go and kiss him the way you would kiss your partner. You let your tongue slip into his mouth and head push further into his. You can feel his fingers push into the supple skin of your waist as he kisses back, trying to match your energy. It was intimate, wet, and slow like you were trying to coax each other to open up. His tongue was gentle and sensual like he was trying to remember how you taste. </p><p>You try not to focus on the fact that you’re sitting just above his waist, the most intimate parts of the both of you are inches away from each other. But the way he’s kissing you has you wanting to grind down against him, feel whether he’s coursing with foreign arousal the same way you are. You want — <em> need </em> — to feel him hard and throbbing beneath you.</p><p>With Owen, you would, but with Eren, you were scared to and you have no idea why.</p><p>You felt dirty. It felt like it was more than just motions, and while you pulled yourself closer to him, letting his chest brush against yours, you had to convince yourself that it wasn't. </p><p>Eren takes your bottom lip in his teeth, nipping at it and tugging it slightly, coaxing out a breathy gasp from you. Then he takes your mouth in his again, hands sliding over your hips and memorizing the curves in your skin.</p><p>Your hands slide down his chest just enough so you can take some of his shirt in your hands, gripping at the collar and tugging him closer. His grip on your waist grows tighter, falling lower to hold the upper fat of your thighs. Your hips rise involuntarily into his grasp, and as they do, he pulls you even closer to him. When you sit back on him, your ass rests against his hips. You can feel him, hard and poking into the meat of your ass.</p><p>Eren feels a groan bubbling up in his throat as your backside brushes against him, he needs more. His hands guide your hips to drag you over his cock, slowly and deeply. </p><p>“Eren —” You breathe. But your not sure if it’s a warning or a plea. </p><p>Eren feels himself twitch in his pants as you pant for him, whispering out his name in a strained whine. He can feel your heat above him, your hips stuttering as he continues to grind you against him. He wonders if Owen’s ever touched you like this before. </p><p>Owen has, but it wasn’t the same. None of it felt the same.</p><p>He could barely believe that you were on top of him right now, grinding down on his cock and whimpering into his mouth. It was almost too much to handle, he was going to get carried away.</p><p>Eren pulls away quickly, sitting back against the couch and breathing heavily. His eyes scan over your figure, taking in the way your hips falter against his as you keep grinding on him, even after he pulls away. His jaw slacks at the constant, shifting pressure against his dick. Your mouth was slightly parted, tiny little moans leaving your lips as you get yourself off. He just helps you, he helps you and ruts further against your cunt, low groans coming from his throat.</p><p>“Shit — Eren,” </p><p>He knew he was getting carried away, but he had no idea if you <em> were </em>, or you were still playing along with the learning. Eren could barely tell the difference for himself.</p><p>He realizes that Owen, or at least someone, has had to have touched you like this, there was no way they haven’t because the way you were swiveling your hips on top of him had him dizzy.</p><p>“Shit, you gotta stop.” He speaks through his teeth, but he doesn’t even make an attempt to stop you, “Fuck — that’s good, you’re good — okay”</p><p>He’s got to get you off, <em> literally </em>, get you off of him. His hands hold you tighter and lift you off his waist, your own hands coming to his wrists that push you off of him. He lets you bring your legs up and set your feet on the floor. He holds you steady as you tremble in his hands, your head still all foggy.</p><p>“Was — was that alright?” You pant, grasping onto his forearms.</p><p>Eren blinks a few times, “Yeah, yeah, that was alright. That was good, you’re good.”</p><p>You gave him an ecstatic smile and left his apartment with sore lips and desire pooling low in your stomach, and although you didn’t pick up anything farther than what you already knew, you felt confident in what you do.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Blindsided</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Reader hangs out with Owen, hoping for a better situation then last time. But when their time together takes an unexpected turn, she’s returns to Eren for help</p><p>Content Warnings: Mentions of Sexual Assault</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b> <em>‘what time?’</em> </b>
</p><p>
  <b> <em>‘6:30?’</em> </b>
</p><p>
  <b> <em>‘works with me!’</em> </b>
</p><p>You let out an exhale of contentment and satisfaction because for once, you weren’t nervous about seeing Owen. You set your phone onto the bed gently and smile softly as you stare into your empty room. It’s almost like your entire body relaxed after that final clicking of ‘send’, like a weight was pulled off your shoulders.</p><p>Seeing Eren helped you. Maybe not so much with your experience, but with your confidence. The only critiques he had were due to your own nervousness around him and you knew you wouldn’t be like that with Owen. You had made him breathless, hard underneath you and grinding against you with just your mouth on his. It felt <em> good </em>. It felt good to be so sure of what you were doing.</p><p>Even though you could pull an obvious reaction from Owen, it hit harder and went deeper when it was from Eren. It struck a chord inside you that had you grinning wide and giggling like a little girl when you drove home from his apartment. You think it was the confirmation, the acceptance from someone who truly knew what they were doing. Eren was your teacher and you were a student with an A in his class.</p><p>The only thing that could catch you off guard would be his dick. </p><p>You still weren’t too sure about going down on a guy; probably because, one, you’ve never done it and, two, the only demonstration you’ve gotten for it was with a pink hairbrush and your slap-happy best friend. You’ve given a pitiful excuse for a handjob once before, jerking at some boy in your English class’s semi-hard dick through his boxers. But that was the only mark you had on that record.</p><p>You could do it if you needed to. You could pull Sasha’s advice to the front of your head and use that to your advantage, because really, how hard could it get?</p><p>And then, you weren’t ready for him to be inside you yet. You’ve never had something other than your own hand inside you. In high school, boys would slide their hands down your pants and blindly rub at your clit, but it never went further than that. It’s been you and your fingers up to now. </p><p>You don’t <em> know </em> what it would feel like to have almost triple the girth inside you, quite literally splitting you open repeatedly. You don’t <em> know </em> what it’s like to have the weight of someone’s dick against your tongue. And that fact scares the living shit out of you. </p><p>But you would learn, you would figure it out, whether it was with Owen or with —</p><p>You’d figure it out. Baby steps.</p><p>Owen won’t get past third base on Tuesday, you promise yourself that. You were comfortable through third, so third would be the farthest you’d go.</p><p>***</p><p>You stared into your own eyes for far too long; poking and prodding at your face, pushing up against your eyelashes, flattening your hair then ruffling it back up until you get it just right. It was almost pathetic, and if you could’ve seen yourself at this moment, you would laugh. Later, you most likely will.</p><p>For a moment, you feel like you’re floating out of your body. You could almost see yourself in the second person as if you were your reflection. In a moment of realization, you bring your hands away from your face to stare back at yourself and let your eyes shift over your face and chest that’s visible in the mirror.</p><p>You felt like a little girl again, playing dress-up and getting all giddy over boys and kissing and makeup. Looking into that person’s eyes and them looking back was startling, but looking into the eyes of your now, self-aware, self was almost funny.</p><p><em> What are you doing? </em> </p><p>Getting all worried over something as stupid and trivial and <em> normal </em> as the first time you have sex. Everyone does it, everyone will do it. Talking about ‘losing’ your virginity as if it’s a physical thing you can grasp or something that affects your identity. It doesn’t affect anything. Viewing it as something you should base your worth on was more damaging than uplifting.</p><p>Of course, conceptual or not, the whole idea of it can carry emotional weight. Weight that you’ve been carrying around on your shoulders and waiting to drop it off beside the perfect person. But, there’s nothing wrong with waiting, there was nothing wrong with <em> your </em>waiting.</p><p>Your wait wasn’t to remain ‘pure’ or ‘worthy’ or ‘valuable’ because your measure as a person doesn’t equate to your sexual status unless you truly want it to. You were waiting for the right person. You were waiting for yourself, this whole time it was for you and what’s best for you. And that’s okay.</p><p>And it was also okay for Sasha to lose her virginity when she was younger. That isn’t a mark on her record or makes her any less valuable. She isn’t sex, her value isn’t based on if and when she had sex.</p><p>Because who fucking knows when someone else has had sex. If you look at someone on the street your chances of guessing their sexual ‘status’ was fifty-fifty. What they’ve done, and who’ve they’ve done, was only a truth to them. </p><p>
  <em> So, what are you doing? </em>
</p><p>Making it important for <em> you </em> . Because nothing else matters other than the time <em> you </em> want to have sex for the first time. If you want to make a deal out of it, so be it; if your sexuality isn’t a big deal to you, so be that as well.</p><p>You’ve waited until now because that’s just what felt right.</p><p>So in the end, it wasn’t as dumb as you thought it was when you were staring into your vanity mirror. You <em> wanted </em> to play dress up and obsess over boys and play with makeup and remember those times when you were younger. And if in two minutes from now that becomes something you don’t want anymore… that’s okay too.</p><p>But at this moment, you <em> want </em> to go to Owen’s. You want to kiss him and feel his chest pressed to yours and have his hands on your body and yours on his... you were <em> ready </em> for that to happen. </p><p>***</p><p>Owen lives about twenty minutes East from you and right by campus. </p><p>You met him at the beginning of the semester in your English course, he’d taken a seat behind you. Within the first months that you knew him, you barely <em> did </em>. He would lean over the desk that separated the two of you and ask series’ of questions revolving around something your professor had said that he needed repeating. He was always kind and helped you in return, inviting you to the library to aid you in writing thesis’ and body paragraphs for essays that were assigned for class.</p><p>Eventually, there was a mutual pining between the two of you, and the glances began to linger and the brushing of hands grew a little more intimate and before you knew it, he was asking you out. As he took you on sweet and youthful dates, you both continued to help each other in class.</p><p>He’s a good guy. He’s smart and helpful, always says ‘please’ and ‘thank you’. He graduated high school with a good GPA and now attends a well-respected college. He pays for dinner and holds the door open for strangers.</p><p>You had a sweet, schoolgirl crush on him. You’d get all nervous and jittery around him, giggling a little too loudly at his jokes and latching onto his arm like an accessory. You’d talk to him about your accomplishments, hoping you could pull a comment out of him that showed his admiration. Your chest gets all fizzy and tight and your hands get fidgety when you see him. Every time your eyes meet, you felt like you were in middle school again, heart jumping around in your chest and your face heating up.</p><p>It never really went away. The few months you’ve been seeing each other, you never stopped getting those excitable nerves. You still laugh a bit too hard and are a bit too clingy, but Owen doesn’t mind it, it strokes his ego.</p><p>“Hi,” You give him a sweet smile as he pulls open his door. </p><p>“Hey,” He pushes open the second glass door a little farther to give you enough space to slip past him and inside his house.</p><p>His house was always oddly warm, the contrast to the chilly outside air was nice. You still had goosebumps scattered over your arms that were wrapped up in a jacket, but you knew the heat would dissipate those right away.</p><p>“Guess what I saw today… on the side of the road.” He smirks, taking your jacket from your hand after you shrugged it off to hang it up on the banister.</p><p>“What?” You look at him as you slip your shoes off. He’s got a mischievous look on his face, eyebrows raised to tease.</p><p>“A possum.” He states proudly, crossing his arms over his chest and standing tall.</p><p>You laugh softly, “Was it big?”</p><p>He tilts his head farther inside the house, letting you know that it was okay to come in farther, “Huge.”</p><p>You follow behind him as he makes his way through the hall. Scattered across the walls is an abundance of pictures. There are a few family portraits followed by independent ones of him, his sister, and his brother. You see a few sports portraits where he’s posed with a hockey stick, and then there were some when he was younger and his body pads engulfed his body. His sister does figure-skating, her pictures are more high end and have a glowy and iridescent haze to them. And one where his little brother stands lopsided in an elementary classroom, proudly holding a mess of a craft he just made.</p><p>“Was it alive?” You run your hand along with the armrest of the couch before climbing into the corner nearest to you and curling your legs up to your chest.</p><p>He looks over you as he walks in front of you, hands in his pockets and a smile on his face. He takes a seat beside you.</p><p>“Yeah, ‘almost hit it. I didn’t though, just for you.” He chuckles, nudging you with his elbow.</p><p>Owen has an excellent memory… when he wants to. He can remember the exact thing you were wearing the nineteenth day of class you had together but he had to come to you no more than ten minutes after the lesson to ask you what the topic was.</p><p>“Not even out of the good of your heart?” You fake hurt, bringing your hand to your chest and dropping your mouth open.</p><p>“Stop,” He looks away, cheeks tinting pink as he shifts around in his seat.</p><p>Owen reaches his left hand over your shoulders to grab the television remote, but instead of pulling his hand back, he trades the remote to the other hand. You allow your head to rest back into the crook of his elbow, savoring the warmth he brings to your thawing body. You could feel the muscles in his arms flex and swell, years of hockey doing well to the entirety of his body. </p><p>He was a bigger guy, broad shoulders and thick thighs, muscles bulging and straining his tee-shirt. Sometimes, when you thought about it too much, his strength scares you. Not only was he absolutely built, but he was tall as well. You weren’t short by any means, but Owen towered over you with ease. </p><p>You watch the tendons in his fingers flex as he presses at the buttons on the remote, clicking around the screen until he settles for a classic show that you two always end up on. It was a baking show that you both always get <em> way </em> too invested in. You’d choose opposite contestants, then criticize the living hell out of the one the other has chosen until you’re both sore in the ribs from laughter</p><p>“How much would you be willing to bet her story has something to do with her grandmother teaching her some family recipe?” Owen’s eyes glance over to you but only for a moment before returning to the screen.</p><p>The screen glows electric in the dim living room lighting. A woman’s face is big on the screen, zoomed into her side profile as she seems to concentrate on her actions. She has blonde hair that’s dulled from age, eyes wrinkled at the corners and the skin in her neck begins to sag. Her eyes are narrowed and when the camera pulls away you can see she’s mixing something in a bowl.</p><p>“I’d bet a lot… that it’s true.” You say, shifting in your seat so your knees rest into his ribs. He’s warm, the heat of his torso radiates through your legs.</p><p>He brings his arm from your shoulder to instead wrap around your legs, holding them bent to his side. His large hand resting on your thigh.</p><p>The silence between the two of you always had an awkward undertone, like two middle schoolers on a first date or something. Obviously, within the time you’ve known each other, it’s faded slightly, but you can’t tell if the unpleasant atmosphere is from the lack of time that you’ve known each other or it’s because your personalities clash. But as the night continues on, the uncomfortability is forgotten and drowned out by the talk on the television. </p><p>Every so often, Owen’s eyes flit to the side to see your pretty face lit up by the screen, watching as the changing images flicker in your eyes. He could feel your legs tense and never relaxing under his touch, but your face doesn’t show it. Your brows and mouth have finally relaxed into your face. </p><p>You can see him watching you out of the corner of your eye, his gaze flickering away every few seconds in caution. It makes your cheeks heat up and your heart thump a little harder in your chest. You stifle back a nervous giggle as his fingers begin to rap at your thigh, brushing over the velvety fabric of your leggings.</p><p>
  <em> ‘Loosen up.’ </em>
</p><p>You could almost hear his voice. If he was here, he’d laugh at you. He’d tease you about how stiff you are</p><p>
  <em> ‘You always this nervous?’ </em>
</p><p>You breathe in deeply through your nose before letting it out, sinking back into the corner of the couch as you do so like you’re trying to melt into it. The tension in your arms fizzes out and Owen can swear he can feel your thighs soften in his touch.</p><p>Warily, you scoot a little closer to him and kick your feet over his thigh to rest atop his legs. Your right knee and thigh rest against his chest, and now, since you’ve pulled yourself away from the corner, you have to lean against the backrest with your head beside his shoulder.</p><p>You probably should’ve given yourself more time to settle before bringing yourself closer to him. The distance just sends another tightening and twitching in your muscles.</p><p>
  <em> ‘Relax.’ </em>
</p><p>You could hear him pestering you like he was standing over the back of the couch and leaning down to whisper in your ear. It was pissing you off. </p><p>It was like that for a while. You and Owen both greatly aware of each other’s presence and pretending like you weren’t. You were both waiting for the other to make the first move, someone’s hands to grow intimate or eyes to swell with lust or to even say something. And in the back of your head, the entire time was his nagging voice, deep and smooth and telling you <em> ‘show me, show me what you’ve learned’ </em></p><p>It was almost from his theoretical persistence <em> alone </em> that you finally shift around and swing a leg over Owen’s lap to straddle him. The action had your thighs tensing up around his waist and you let your head fall against his shoulder to hide the nervous smile on your face. You can feel Owen take a large inhale, your body shifting as he does. His hands rest themselves on your hips as yours wrap around his neck.</p><p>His arms slide around your back, forearms pulling you closer to him. He could crush you, just one squeeze of his arms together and you’d crack like a glowstick. But you settle into his lap, your breath tickling his neck and his chest pressed to yours.</p><p>You don’t even focus on the show, their voices drowning out and muffling like they’re being sunk underwater. All your senses are dialed into the man in front of you. You can feel his heart beating in his chest, deep and heavy, and the faint masculine scent of his cologne wisps in your nose. You can feel the weight of him underneath you and although you’re not touching, his presence is almost tangible.</p><p>
  <em> ‘Show me.’ </em>
</p><p>Eren’s voice disperses as you press your lips to the hot skin of Owen’s neck, just a soft kiss to the fragile skin, your eyes fluttering shut. Owen’s arms shift around on your back and goosebumps ripple over his skin and make the hair at the back of his neck stand on end. Your exhales tickle his skin as you continue to press featherlight kisses to his neck.</p><p>Simmering inside you was that confidence from the other day, swirling around in your chest and buzzing in your throat. It had you parting your mouth slightly as it returns to his skin, wetting it slightly and shining under the dull light.</p><p>Owen’s hands slide from your back and return to your hips, gripping them a little harder than before like he’s trying to keep you still. His head tilts away from you ever so slightly, you barely notice it, to further the expanse of exposed skin. You give a thin lick up and over his fluttering pulse and he sucks in a gasp in response. You smile.</p><p>Then, his hand lifts off your hip to reach between you and take your chin in his hands. You only get a moment to see his eyes, dark with lust, before he takes your lips in his. It’s a heated kiss, gentle yes, but parted lipped and wet. It has your hands wrapping further around his neck, pulling you closer to him. His hand falls back to your hips, taking hold and pressing into them.</p><p>Your faces are so close together, your hold on him giving neither of you slack, that you barely have space to pull away between kisses. But he pulls you closer, shifting your hips upon his waist. You’re the one to gasp this time as you feel pressure against your clothed clit. He takes the sweet sound into his mouth as his fingers slip under your sweatshirt.</p><p>You allow yourself to roll your hips against him, feeling his cock grow in sweatpants as you do so. It was an experimental action, testing the waters and reevaluating your limits.</p><p>This time wasn’t uncomfortable like last time was. It could be the adrenaline or the newfound confidence… you didn’t know, but you were incredibly thankful for it. You found pleasure in grinding yourself against him, slow and steady but effective.</p><p>Owen’s hands slid back down lower, down to caress your thighs before back up and over your hips to rest at the base of your spine, fingers at the top of your ass. Then, after a few heartbeats of pause, he takes the meat of your ass in his large hands, squeezing and pulling you against him with even more fervor. </p><p>You let out a faint moan into his mouth, a little louder this time, as his hands force your back into an arch and send your hips grinding against him again. Lightly, he pushes back up into you, letting his stiff dick slide against your cunt and put pressure on your clit. </p><p>“Owen —” You breathe, pausing for a moment to catch your breath.</p><p>In your moment of stillness, he takes ahold of your waist and sits up just enough to flip you over and have your back pressing into the couch cushion, climbing atop your body and his waist sliding between your thighs. His hands brace beside your head, you leaning up and him leaning down to take each other’s lips again. Your heart begins to beat faster, thumping against your ribcage as he cages you within his arms. </p><p>You’ve never been put in this position before, never had someone kissing you so passionately while they lay atop you and between your legs, never been trapped between someone’s body and a couch. It had gone to plan up until now, you were the one initiating and calling the shots. But now he has control over the situation, and you were starting to panic. </p><p>But you let him continue. You allow him to grind against you, swallow your breathy moans, palm at your waist and chest because as intimidated as you were, you didn’t want him to stop. </p><p>He tastes like vanilla creamer, lips smooth and buttery like he had applied chapstick moments before you had come. It was comforting and helped ground you as he continues to kiss you eagerly. </p><p>Then, he begins to kiss down your jaw, open-mouthed and hot, tongue following his bottom lip as he dips down the curve of your jaw. As much as you would like to enjoy the slick sensation of his lips on your skin, you almost can’t. Because he was going lower and lower until he meets the base of your neck and nipping at the skin there to darken your flesh with a love bite. </p><p>And his hands are sliding lower on your torso until they meet the waistband of your leggings, hooking underneath the silky fabric and slowly — like he was waiting for you to stop him — slowly pulling them over your hips and down the tops of your thighs. As he does so, his lips kiss below the underwire of your bra, gently down the center of your stomach, and meet the waistband of your light blue panties. He was shifting his knees further down the couch, head coming down in line with your hips.</p><p>You were just watching him, unable to move, unable to react. You propped yourself up on your elbows and looked into his lust blown hazel eyes as he looked back up to you. You swallow hard as your legging are pulled down to your ankles and slid off of your body and tosses aside. You were left in a sweatshirt, panties, and ankle socks as he takes ahold of your waist and looks up to you.</p><p>He presses a soft kiss to your clit through the thin fabric of your panties, and that knocks you back into reality.</p><p>“Um — I don’t — I’ve never had someone go down on me… before,” You bring your hands to his head, lacing into his hair. You don’t push him away, you just make sure he doesn’t come any closer.</p><p>“Never?”</p><p>“N-No —”</p><p>“D’you mind if <em> I </em> do?”</p><p>You squirm in front of him, bending your knees and backing up to try and close him off, “Y-yeah, I’m sorry — I’m just —”</p><p>Owen sits up as you scramble back against the armrest of the couch, snatching your leggings off the floor and pulling them in front of you to cover your exposed skin. </p><p>“I’m not sure yet.”</p><p>He pulls his hands away from your legs, sitting back on his calves as he looks at you. His brows are slightly furrowed in confusion.</p><p>You could hear the blood rushing around your ears as you maneuver your feet to slip them back into the legs of your leggings. Then, his right-hand reaches out to grab the waistband that’s wrapped around your ankles, holding it in place.</p><p>“C’mon, I’ll be gentle.” He says.</p><p>You tug harder, gripping the fabric tighter and pulling up with more force, his hand lets go and your waistband is sent flying with your hands as you pull them up and over your knees.</p><p>“No, I don’t — not yet, please.” You mumble, adverting your eyes to your hands and lifting your hips to awkwardly pull your pants up over your hips again. </p><p>“You’ll like it,” He scoots closer, keeping his hands in his lap, but his eyes are all over you.</p><p>“Owen, no.” You say, composing yourself and forcing yourself to speak in a harsher tone. You shake your head and your hands come out in front of you, “Just… no.”</p><p>He lets out a huff of defeat, brows raising as he pulls away from you and sits back on the couch. You blink a few times, trying to comprehend what just happened. Your arms cross over your chest as you retreat back to the corner you started at.</p><p>“Sorry.” He mumbles, face relaxing.</p><p>You glance at him for a moment, swallowing down the tight lump forming in your throat. His face is flushed, from what you can see, it seems to be out of embarrassment.</p><p>“I’m just… not comfortable with that… yet.” You add on the ‘yet’ last second, not trying to kill the progress or improvement between the two of you and your intimacy. </p><p>He’d freaked you out for a second. There was a brief moment where you were left wondering <em> ‘is he going to stop?’ </em> . It had your eyes stinging as you blinked away your fear. But you knew — <em> know </em> — that Owen will never hurt you.  He may have the <em> power </em> to, but he doesn’t have the power <em> to </em>.</p><p>You left his house at 10:30 with your nerves still shot, and tender reddened marks along your collar and navel. Your legs were weak and shaky, from the panic or arousal… or both. The chilled air does no comfort for your heat flushed skin, it just makes you feel sick and uncomfortable, like how you would when waking up in the middle of the night, feeling nauseous and getting hot flashes as you contemplate running to the bathroom.</p><p>You sit in the driver’s seat, staring at the grooves in the steering wheel and absentmindedly turning on the car. It rumbles to a start, radio clicking on, and you keep your eyes forward as you back out of his driveway.</p><p>Maybe you were overreacting; freaking out over something that’s not a big deal.</p><p>But either way, overreacting or not, you had another issue on your plate.</p><p>So, you get home and you don’t get out of the car. You sit, the seat still buckled, staring at the garage door. And in a flash, you’re once again, not thinking before you act.</p><p>
  <b> <em>‘are you home?’</em> </b>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Under the Table</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Eren and Reader have a difficult conversation before he can help her. But how will his assistance effect their relationship?</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The past conversations between the two of you didn’t even pass through Eren’s mind when he received your message. It was 11 pm on a Tuesday night, a school night, and he knew you were just visiting with Owen. </p><p>He was laying his bed in his childhood room, his walls still littered with posters of his favorite sports teams from when he was younger, but now there were some of his current interests. He sat up quickly when he saw your contact light upon his lock screen, followed by a disturbingly vague message.</p><p><b> <em>‘are you home?’</em> </b> You had asked, at 11:04 pm, precisely.</p><p>It had Eren’s heart stammering in his chest, not from excitement, no. Although the two of you have known each other since the sandbox, you rarely texted him before this whole sex education ordeal. And now, it was late at night and you were <em> just </em> with someone who Eren <em> knew </em> was trying to make sexual advances with you… he couldn’t stop his mind from going to the worst-case scenario.</p><p><b> <em>‘yes. what’s wrong?’ </em> </b>He said, answering your question with a question.</p><p>But as soon as he saw that his message was received, your end of the conversation went quiet. He threw on clothes and was scrambling up for his keys before he could even process what he was doing.</p><p>Something inside him had him acting on instinct. Because even though your relationship has been distanced since high school, Eren still cared about you. For Christ’s sake, he was teaching you how to have <em> sex </em> , of course he cares about you. But that was different, at least a little. That was out of guidance. Now, the instinctual part of him was acting toward <em> protecting </em> you. He felt like he was obligated to; not the obligation that had him groaning and rolling his eyes but the obligation that had his heart racing and chest heaving.</p><p>You were already on your way to his house before he had even answered, so when Eren whipped open his front door and started his way down the hall, you got a face-full of his chest.</p><p>“Shit!” He grabs ahold of your shoulders, pushing you back and steading you. Your hair had fallen into your face, hands balled up into fists by your chest, and your eyes were squeezed shut in preparation for the collision.</p><p>“Jesus…” You mutter, unclenching your hands and letting them fall to your sides as Eren’s grip on your shoulders loosens.</p><p>It was the first time you’d seen him since your mouth was on his, and it has your chest tightening up. Those same strong hands that were gripping your waist and pulling you against him were now balancing you and holding you upright and away from him</p><p>“What happened? You alright?” Eren looks over your face, your eyes just now opening up. He takes a step away from you, taking in your entire demeanor. Your knees were bent ever so slightly as if you were having trouble standing, your hands were trembling as they lower to your sides, and as his eyes flit up your body, they meet a patch of your skin that was tinted a bit darker and pinker than your usual complexion.</p><p>“‘m fine.” You say, bringing your arms up and using your forearms to gently brush his hands off you, “Just have a few questions about…”</p><p>You couldn’t tell him about your few moments of panic, or the cause of your flustered appearance, or how you sat in your car for a few minutes trying not to throw up your nerves. Because if you did, he wouldn’t tell you anything more. You just… couldn’t tell him.</p><p>“Are you <em> kidding </em> me?” The tone in his voice shifts, purposefully. His heart was still in a frenzy, stammering against his chest out of fear or worry or <em> something </em>.</p><p>“What?” You finally look up to him, into his pretty jade eyes that were glossed over with the same late-night exhaustion that you saw in the car after your night in the city.</p><p>“You freaked me out for a second.” He raises his eyebrows and blinks a few times before pushing the hair that has fallen out of his bun away from his eyes.</p><p>Your stomach twists at his words.</p><p>“I didn’t mean to,” You say.</p><p>Eren shuts his eyes for a moment and takes in a deep exhale before opening them.</p><p>“Well…?” Eren questions, pushing his door open and backing into his apartment. He gestures backward into his home. He was a little agitated, but you couldn’t tell if it was from your short notice or something else. </p><p>“Oh, yeah.” You smile softly, still testing the waters. </p><p>Eren’s nerves begin to settle as you follow him inside like a lost puppy. You’re alive, at least, but if something else was wrong, you were hiding it pretty well. Your shaking legs could’ve played off as some post-sexual-interaction bodily reaction.</p><p>“Is your mom not worried about where you are?” He asks, flicking the kitchen light on.</p><p>You could tell that his night was quiet. Other than a faint, warm glow from his bedroom, the entire house was dark before he turned on that light. He has on a navy blue crewneck that seems to be a size or two too big for him, you assume it’s his dad’s, and a pair of grey sweatpants on. He looks like he was ready to sleep before you texted him, all warm and comfortable. You feel a twinge of guilt for possibly waking him.</p><p>“No, I told her that I’d be home late.” You watch him plop down onto <em> that </em> couch, with an audible exhale as he sits back into it.</p><p>You stand at the edge of the living room, your feet halfway-on halfway-off the Persian area rug, as you watch him at the opposite corner of the couch. You could still let yourself out, turn around and walk back down the entryway and give him back his night.</p><p>Eren couldn’t let you leave before you talked, he wouldn’t let you. He was still a little concerned, he couldn’t help it. Your demeanor was still all jittery and quiet like you were hiding something from him.</p><p>He stares ahead into his reflection in the television before looking up to his left at you.</p><p>“You had questions, right?” He asks.</p><p>You nod, short and quick.</p><p>“Then sit.” He leans to his left and slaps the bare couch cushion beside him.</p><p>You slip off your shoes, leaving them at the edge of the rug, and sit in the opposite corner of the couch to him, closest to the door. You bring your knees to your chest, the same way you had at Owen’s, and stare down at your socks.</p><p>“Don’t laugh.” You mumble, placing your chin on your knees.</p><p>But your comment makes him laugh, breathy and relieved as he stares blankly at the floor. Something about it reassured him.</p><p>“I <em> just </em> said, ‘don’t laugh’.” You look to him. He has his legs crisscrossed and an elbow propped up against the armrest to prop up his head in his hand.</p><p>“‘m not laughing at you.” He chuckles again, looking back to you, “I’m laughing because I told you not even <em> two days ago </em> that I won’t laugh at you.”</p><p>“Eren.” You warn, sterning him as a mother would, but your lips are quirked ever so slightly into a smile</p><p>“Fine, sorry. Continue.” He says, shifting around in his seat to face you.</p><p>You exhale slowly, “So, obviously, I was with Owen tonight… and everything was good, like it all was fine, but then…”</p><p>“He hurt you?” Eren interrupts, eyes narrowing as he looks to you again. </p><p>“No! No,” You don’t lie. Owen didn’t hurt you, he just scared you for a moment, “We were kissing and everything and it started to go further… and…”</p><p>You pause, crinkling your nose and cringing at yourself. </p><p>“What?” Eren asks.</p><p>“He… tried to — <em> God, please don’t laugh </em> — he tried to go down on me.” You mutter, hiding your face in your knees.</p><p>Eren presses his lips into a line, but not to hold back laughter. He was a little confused. From what you made it out to be, Owen seemed like someone who preferred to be on the receiving end of things. Owen was always the one to encourage you to go farther, presumably for his personal benefit. To hear that Owen willingly wanted to pleasure you was… surprising.</p><p>“Really?” Eren <em> sounded </em> confused, to the point where it almost seemed like he was accusing you of lying.</p><p>“Yeah…?” You furrow your brows in your own confusion, “Why, ‘<em> really </em>’?”</p><p>Eren clears his throat, “I don’t know… Owen just doesn’t seem like the guy to do that.” He says it as he knows it for sure.</p><p>“What does that mean?” You ask, picking up your head and turning to him.</p><p>“Nothing,” Eren shakes his head, “So, why is that a bad thing?”</p><p>This was the part you were concerned he would laugh at. What type of girl wouldn’t want a guy to go down on them, let alone deny him? And now you were going to have to reveal even more of your inexperience. Eren unconsciously knows that you haven’t gone past kissing, but you having to physically tell him that you haven’t been eaten out was <em> incredibly </em> embarrassing.</p><p>“No one’s ever gone down on me before,” Your voice goes quiet as you shrug, “And I don’t really know how it works... or if I’ll like it.”</p><p>That unhinged twisting returns to Eren’s stomach, brewing low and deep inside him. He has to swallow hard to refrain from letting out a groan of maybe <em> arousal </em> , maybe <em> astonishment </em>? Whatever it was had his skin crawling with heat. And just as you had feared, hearing your innocence stated out loud had a much greater effect than implying it.</p><p>“You’ll like it.” He scoffs, masking his incitement with mocking, “Trust me.”</p><p>“I’m serious!” You exclaim, raising your brows.</p><p>“So am I!” He rolls his eyes, “Just tell him what you like and what you don’t like… it’s as easy as that. Don’t know <em> why </em> you got me up in <em> the middle of the night </em> just to tell me Owen wanted to tongue fuck you.”</p><p>He sounded irritated, in a way he was, and his sharp words that were undertoned with ridicule sliced deeper than you had expected. He was so willing to help you before, but now his teasing turned insulting over playful.</p><p>Eren hated that Owen was only playing in your favor. It didn’t piss him off that you were coming to him late at night, it pissed him off that you were coming to him to shove it in his face that Owen was a good guy and was wanting to treat you and please you. Eren hadn’t expected that. He had expected Owen to be like every other guy on this planet and want to get his dick wet then leave.</p><p>“You know I could just go, I’m sorry if I woke you up.” You mutter, bringing your legs away from you and planting your feet on the floor in front of the couch.</p><p>“No… come on. I was just messing with you.” Eren says, trying to recover from his previous demeaning tone. He sees the way the curiosity in your eyes dulls.</p><p>“You were being a dick.” You cross your arms over your chest. He could tell that you were embarrassed, possibly insecure.</p><p>“Hey, I’m sorry. Just tell me what you need to know and I’ll try my best.” He adds.</p><p>You sit back in your seat, bring your legs back up but keeping your knees turned away from him and resting against the armrest. Your face was growing hot, you could feel the embarrassment flooding your cheeks and neck. It was a different embarrassment from before when you were in his kitchen, this time it was from genuine insecurity.</p><p>“I just… what do I do and like… what if he like — shit, I don’t know.” You groan and press the heels of your palms into your eyes until you see shapes.</p><p>“Tell him what you like and just sit back and relax. When he’s doing that… all you can do is just take it in.” </p><p>“How do I tell him what I like… <em> I </em> don’t even know what I like…” You mumble, pulling your hands away and letting your head fall back against the backrest.</p><p>“Don’t tell me you haven’t… ” Eren takes his middle and ring finger forward from his pinky and pointer to resemble a ‘rock on’ symbol and makes a thrusting motion, “... before.”</p><p>Your mouth drops open, then closes, then opens again as your face goes hot and flushed. You turn your head away from him to hide the nervous smile on your face.</p><p>“You’re kidding me…” Eren’s heart jumps to his throat.</p><p>“No! I — I have! I don’t really think about what I like when I’m doing… <em> it </em>.”</p><p>Eren has to swallow again, <em> hard </em> , because the pretty image of you spread out on your bedsheets with your hand shoved down your panties and your fingers filling you up as you let out breathy moans begins to invade his head. And my God did he feel <em> dirty </em> for it. At least when you were grinding down on top of him it was consensual, but he had <em> zero </em> permission to be thinking about you in that state when you were entrusting him with that information. It felt like a huge violation of privacy.</p><p>But if he thought <em> he </em> was freaking out, he should’ve heard <em> your </em> thoughts.</p><p>You were a stammering mess in your own head. Your brain is going a million miles a second because you were talking about <em> fingering yourself </em> in front of your childhood best friend. Masturbation was a wholly separate and independent topic from getting intimate with another person, it was private and taboo and <em> personal </em> . And you were talking about your private and personal pleasure with <em> Eren </em>.</p><p>“Well, like, do you want to experiment?” Eren asks.</p><p>Your eyes go wide as you look to him, “With you?!”</p><p>You can feel your heartbeat pick up, blood rushing to your head and pooling in your face as you think about going farther than just making out with Eren. It had you dizzy.</p><p>“No! No, <em> my god </em> ,” Eren shifts around in his seat. He could feel the warmth pooling in his stomach, his blood rushing south at the thought of experimenting with you. The thought of you allowing him to touch you, tease you, <em> feel </em> you and help you learn what you like had his cock <em> throbbing </em>.</p><p>“No, just go home and get off or something and figure out what you like.” Eren has to close his eyes, lean forward with his elbows on his knees, and let his head fall into his hands. He couldn’t even look at you, he’s afraid you’d notice the pink flush covering his face, “That’s your homework.”</p><p>You blink a couple of times. First, to try and shrug off the fact that you just humiliated yourself by thinking Eren would even <em> dare </em> to suggest going to third base with you, let alone saying that thought out loud. Second, because you were quite literally going to go home and finger yourself just because Eren told you to. </p><p>“And then what?” </p><p>“Text me and then I’ll help you with the communication aspect of it.” Eren lifts his head, resting his chin in his hands and turning his head towards you, “Now, go home.”</p><p>“I just got here! I have more questions!” </p><p>“Ask them later. It’s almost tomorrow, and the later the night gets... the more careless drivers will be.” He stands up, adjusting his sweatshirt and using his foot to push down his sweatpants that rise up his ankles.</p><p>You smile softly, giving in and standing with him. You don’t mention anything about his concern, you just store it in the back of your head along with the warm and fuzzy feeling it evokes from you. </p><p>Eren watches you get into your car from his bedroom window, seeing your face light up then fade dark when the car starts. He watches you pull out of your parking spot, a little smile on his face as he watches you turn your head to check the lot behind you. He watches your hands turn the wheel as you pull out of his building’s lot, then he watches your headlights fade as you pull away.</p><p>***</p><p>You knew you were alone. You knew that your parents were asleep and you had your door locked and blinds closed… but it still felt like someone was watching you. It was crawling all over your skin like a bunch of bugs, festering in your throat and making you shiver from the slithering. </p><p>In a way, it was always like this when you did <em> this </em>. You always had your senses dialed into the max out of fear of interruption and embarrassment. Your ears were perked up at every creak of the house and your eyes narrowed with every seemingly moving shadow. </p><p>You had a hand teasing at the waistband of your maroon panties, tracing over the little white bow in the center as you stare up at the ceiling. Your sleep shorts were tossed aside and your tee shirt was pulled up your torso to rest under your breasts, hardened nipples poking through the flimsy fabric.</p><p>You were contemplating going through with this; listening to Eren and getting yourself off with his voice ringing deep in your mind reminding you to <em> ‘figure out what you like’ </em> . You felt like <em> he </em> was there watching you, <em> he </em> was the looming presence that had goosebumps scattering over your exposed skin. It had you trembling even without touching yourself.</p><p>You breathe out through your mouth as you allow your fingers to dip below your waistband, shivering at the sensation and feeling your stomach move under your hand as you take in another breath. Below your fingertips, you feel the slight prickle of recently shaven coarse hair and make a mental note to shave again soon.</p><p>You allow your middle finger to slide a little lower, brushing over your clit with the lightest of pressure. With a soft exhale, you keep going, circling slowly as your hips begin to shift slightly under your touch. </p><p>You were looking up to the ceiling as if you were trying to memorize every last feathery touch of your fingers, trying to engrain the ones that made you shiver to save for later. You wanted more from yourself, but at the same time, you didn’t. You liked the featherlight teasing, the gentleness of how you’re winding yourself up. Yeah, you liked it gentle… at least at first.</p><p>More pressure is added, not enough to have your hips squirming, but just enough to have breathy moans escaping your lips with every right movement of your fingers.</p><p>It felt so right for being so wrong. It’s been days, but Eren’s voice still spoke low and confident, bouncing around your head, <em> ‘go home and get off’ </em>. It was the same how it was when you were with Owen... like he was right beside you and mumbling against your ear. </p><p>You could feel your heart pounding hard in your chest although your touches were still teasing. Because it felt like he was sitting right next to you, telling you what to do next and taking note of your body’s reaction. And some sick and twisted part of you liked it.</p><p>Your hand shifts lower, your wrist finally pushing under the waistband so your middle finger can slide through the arousal dripping out of you. Your mouth falls open slightly and your eyes flutter shut. Everything felt ten times better when you pictured <em> him </em> sitting beside you.</p><p>Maybe you liked <em> that </em> too.</p><p>Your finger slides down to your entrance, circling it the same as you had with your clit, and then slowly, <em> slowly </em> , sliding it inside and letting out a shaky moan at the intrusion. It was an easy entrance, you were practically sucking yourself in further. And my God, were you <em> soaked </em>.</p><p>Your nipples were hard and rubbing against the thin material of the shirt, your legs were bent at the knee and spread slightly to allow a second finger to slide inside and your head was fallen back onto your pillow with your jaw slacked and eyes squeezed shut.</p><p>But even with your eyes closed, the only thing you could see was him. His vibrant, turquoise eyes were staring into the very depths of your soul, his strong hands were still sliding up your waist and gripping your ass, his tongue and his taste still lingered in your mouth. You couldn’t help it, you couldn't stop it, but you didn’t want it to.</p><p>You came with Eren’s name on the tip of your tongue. You never said it, you never breathed it, but it was there. It was begging to escape your lips even though you knew you shouldn’t say it.  You just got off to him, that was concrete and you were unable to escape it. But somehow, saying his name would just manage to make it worse.</p><p>The guilt and realization flooded your entire being instantly. It had you physically cringing and your stomach turning with that post-orgasmic clarity. You squeezed your eyes shut and shook your head around like you were an etch-a-sketch and doing so would wipe your memory clean. </p><p>You got up quickly, pulling up your panties and slipping on your sleep shorts. You wash your hands in the bathroom sink, scrubbing extra hard like it’ll wash away what you’ve done. Once you’re finished with your hands, you turn the handle to the coldest setting, cup some of the water into your hands, and splash it over your face.</p><p>As it drips down your neck and forearms you stare into your eyes into the mirror… waiting for your reflection to say something back to you like ‘what the fuck’. But it never happens, and you just give yourself a look of disgust and embarrassment. </p><p>
  <em> It barely counted right? </em>
</p><p>You <em> didn’t </em> pretend that it was his fingers that were knuckle deep inside you, you <em> didn’t </em> picture him laying next to you and coaxing out your orgasm with filthy words and sweet praises, you <em> didn’t </em> let his name slip off your tongue as you came. It wasn’t <em> to </em> him, or <em> for </em> him, or <em> with </em> him…</p><p>Perhaps his stupid face only crossed your mind because you saw him a few days ago, or because you made out with him a week ago, or because he was the one who told you to do this.</p><p><em> He </em> told you to do this.</p><p>
  <em> Yeah, that’s it. </em>
</p><p>Eren’s face was floating around in your head, his name heavy on your tongue, hands still ghosting over your skin all because he told them to be.</p><p>And really, even if it was your own doing, was it so bad?</p><p>You figured out what you like, didn’t you? Just as he said, just as he told you to do. </p><p>This was all his plan, his little teacher-student plan, and he was helping you. This was just another one of his lessons. </p><p>Except <em> he </em> wasn’t here.</p><p>But, again, it was fine because he told you to.</p><p><em> ‘That’s your homework.’ </em>He had said.</p><p>***</p><p>“Okay, I did what you said. Now, how do I tell him?” You ask, putting the phone on speaker before placing it into the cup holder beside you.</p><p>“You — you what?” Eren’s voice is clear on the other line compared to yours that was muffled and mussed over by passing cars.</p><p>It was an impulsive call. You had just finished up an exam, you felt you did good on it, and your whole body was on an adrenaline and caffeine rush… so, you called Eren. Four days after you did what he said, you called him.</p><p>You needed those four days for both physical and mental preparation. For two of them, you had to convince yourself that what you did had no feelings attached to it, and the other two were building up the courage to tell him that your homework was completed.</p><p>“Did my homework!” You exclaim, almost blowing through a red light and coming to a hard stop. The squealing tires were audible through Eren’s end of the phone.</p><p>“Are you driving?” He asks.</p><p>“Yeah, but that’s not the point. How do I tell Owen that I’m into teasing!” You giggle, speaking loudly over the oncoming traffic.</p><p>Eren hates himself for making a mental note of your comment.</p><p>You knew you’d regret your boldness the moment you saw Eren. You knew that your proud and confident demeanor would crumble the minute he brings your words back up in person. But you’re going to let yourself enjoy your shamelessness while it lasted.</p><p>“I — um, are you free?” He asks, voice louder. He’s holding the phone between his shoulder and his ear as he stumbles around for a shirt. He didn’t even wait for your answer before he started preparing for your arrival.</p><p>But you didn’t expect your adrenaline high to die off so soon.</p><p>“Now?” You ask, your liveliness dying out and toothy smile fading, “I could — just call you later, you know.”</p><p>“You’re suggesting that we talk over the phone for a lecture on <em> communication </em> ? Little ironic, don’t you think?” You could almost <em> hear </em> the smirk on his lips.</p><p>His teasing voice made you crumble, made you break out into a sweat, and turned you into a stuttering mess.</p><p>“It’s a little ironic, but —”</p><p>“Hey! I haven’t had a conversation with you since<em> seventh grade </em> that has lasted as long as the ones we’ve had in the <em> past week </em>. Your sex life is the only thing I know about you right now.”</p><p>As well as Eren hid it externally, he couldn’t do the same inside. </p><p>In his head, you still watched Grey’s Anatomy and Skins religiously, you still played soccer and liked to write poems about nature in your English class, you had a secret rock collection that only he, Mikasa, and Armin knew about, you liked the plants in his house and still let your mom pin those English poems to the fridge with a magnet.</p><p>Maybe now your favorite shows were soap operas or animes, or you now like the sciences over the arts… maybe you <em> majored </em> in a science… </p><p>
  <em> My God, he didn’t even know what you were majoring in. </em>
</p><p>“Yeah, maybe I prefer it like that!” You say sarcastically. But you didn’t.</p><p>Ever since you and Eren’s means of communication has increased, you’ve realized just how much you’ve truly missed his company. </p><p>His hobbies have changed, his looks have changed; he was no longer that skinny, short haired, insecure boy and was now a fully-grown, lean-muscled, long-haired boyish <em> man </em>. But Eren still had that adolescent and teenaged nature in him. </p><p>And you missed that.</p><p>“You’re in the car, yeah? Don’t stop anywhere, just c’mere… actually maybe stop for food or something. You know what? I don’t care, do whatever you want, but be here in —” Eren checks the clock on the oven, “— in an hour… <em> max </em>.”</p><p>Your negative mood was turned sweet as you recognize his jaunty nature. You can’t help but smile at the playfulness in his voice. It felt nostalgic. It made your heart ache in a good way. </p><p>“Pushy much?” You turn off course and onto the highway for his house.</p><p>“There’s a method to my madness.” </p><p>“Yeah, I know. You’re the <em> sex-pert </em>, my bad.” You tease.</p><p>“Yeah, yeah,” He chuckles softly before hanging up.</p><p>You bit at the inside of your cheek to hide a smile, and you were smiling with reminiscence and remembrance until you were halfway up the steps of his apartment building. Then that nervous, nauseous, anxious feeling swarmed like flies in your stomach.</p><p>He knew… you <em> knew </em> it. You knew that he knew that you <em> got-off/didn’t-get-off </em> to him. You could <em> sense </em> it. You could see it in his eyes when he opened the door, lurking and smirking deep down inside him like he was saving it as a sabotage device for later. </p><p>Every beat of your heart had that image of you staring at your wet face in the mirror getting clearer and clearer. You were feeling the guilt all over again, but now it was paired with humiliation. </p><p>“No food?” He was still in that boyish mood.</p><p>You force your lips to upturn as you shake your head ‘no’.</p><p>“‘was thinking we could eat over sex talk if that’s not too gross for you…” He backs up against the door, holding it open with his body as you step into his apartment for the third time in two weeks.</p><p>You laugh into an exhale, “Just, just tell me what I need to know.” You smile, shooing at him with your hand.</p><p>Eren places a hand between your shoulders, steering you away from the kitchen and back to the couch. His hand feels heavy and hot against your skin, hotter than it should, you almost jump at his touch. He sits you down in the same seat you were in the other day, closest to the door, and he takes the side opposite of you. </p><p>You could already feel your chest tightening as he looks you over. He sits back with confidence, feet planted on the floor and legs spread at the knees with his hands in his lap; it was doing no help to your own levels of insecurity. </p><p>He has on another one of his dad’s sweatshirts, the hems of it are worn and fraying slightly, but this one was a white-grey color compared to the blue one. His black sweatpants sat low on his hips, dangerously low; you could see the grey band of his briefs peeking out the top. You had to force yourself to look away.</p><p>He was the same with you, his eyes lingering over your legs and body as you sit just to the left of him. He was looking at you in a way he shouldn’t be looking at you, he felt wrong for it. He allowed himself to sneak glances at the curves of your hips and thighs, just tiny glances, sneaky ones that had his eyes flicking back up to your face in moments.</p><p>But Eren wasn’t as sneaky as he hoped to be. You could see the slight shift in eyes, the constant, changing field of vision.</p><p>Your suspicion was getting the best of you, and you thought that his looks were those searching for insecurity. You thought that he knew, that you knew, that he knew.</p><p>“So, you did what I said?” He asks, letting his chin drop to his chest as he sinks lower into the couch.</p><p>“Yep.”</p><p>“You know what you like?”</p><p>“You want the details?” You narrow your eyes and give him a teasing smirk.</p><p>“Um — no,” He chuckles nervously.</p><p>It was awkward. It was horribly, dreadfully, and uncomfortably awkward. The air between the two of you was heavy and thick with tension, confusing tension. It felt like you had just gotten into an argument, saw each other naked, and called each other out all at once.</p><p>“When a guy goes down on you, he’s going to be looking at your body language. Well, he <em> should </em> be looking at your body language. So, whether you can help it or not, that’s a way of communication.”</p><p>You can only nod as he speaks, you don’t feel like a response would even be suitable for this conversation.</p><p>“If you like what he’s doing — and have control over your actions — you could moan a little louder or tug on his hair.”</p><p>As he continues, he visibly grows more confident. It was almost funny. He slipped into that teacher persona so easily after you get him going. But after all, this <em> was </em> his field of expertise. </p><p>“But the best, and most clear and direct way of communication, is just to straight up tell them when you like or don’t like what they’re doing.” He talks with his hands, palms up to the ceiling then clasping back together as he speaks.</p><p>“Like… do I just say, ‘don’t do that’?” You quirk your brows.</p><p>“I mean yeah that works, but I would try being a little more… <em> smooth </em>… with it than that.” </p><p>“Okay, how do I do that.” You gesture with your hand for him to continue.</p><p>Eren looks down to his hands with a goofy smile on his face. He truly was walking with you every step of the way, and only then does he realize how much trust you’re putting in him.</p><p>“I knew this part would be hard for you.” He smiles a little as he pauses.</p><p>Your mouth drops open and you let out an appalled laugh, “What’s that supposed to mean?”</p><p>“You’re not very good with telling people what you need from them…”</p><p>“That’s a lie!” You pull your legs up onto the couch as you turn to face him. </p><p>“<em> Come on </em> , I literally had to force it out of you when you first came to me for help. No, I <em> did </em> have to force it out of you.” Eren corrects himself. But at the mention of the first time you came over, the first time he helped you; when his lips were on yours and you were grinding against him, had his face burning. He hoped you couldn’t see the blush on his cheeks.</p><p>“Eren, I was nervous!” You give the couch cushion a gentle smack of artificial frustration.</p><p>“And you’re going to be nervous when Owen’s tongue is on you too, that’s no excuse.” He crosses his arms over his chest, the muscles in them strain at the sweatshirt slightly.</p><p>“Then teach me how to not be nervous,” You sit on your legs, tucking them underneath you with a huff, “Teach me how to to be okay with someone going down on me.”</p><p><em> ‘I could just go down on you’ </em> Eren thinks, <em> ‘same thing as kissing you before’ </em></p><p>“If you’re not okay with it then it’s not going to work, being okay with it isn’t something I can just <em> teach </em>.” Eren says</p><p>“I am okay with it! I just don’t know how it works! I’ve never — never done it before. Eren, I’m going in blind, do you expect me to just <em> know </em> what to do?”</p><p>“No.” </p><p>“Then teach me, show me — show me something, anything. Tell me what to do, show me what to do!” You’re practically bouncing in your seat as you speak, the energy and frustration in your body grows visible.</p><p>Eren pauses with his mouth halfway open, ready to speak. His heart was pounding, <em> pounding </em> in his chest. He clenches his jaw, the muscles in it flex under pressure.</p><p>Did you even know how you were sounding right now? Did you even know that it <em> quite literally </em>was sounding like you were begging him to delve his tongue right into you?</p><p>“You want me to just <em> eat you out </em> or something?!” He sits up and masks his sincerity with incredulity and a scoff.</p><p>His comment shuts you up real quick.</p><p>“‘cause I can do that!” He shakes his head, tongue-in-cheek as he sits back on the couch, “Just like before, It’ll be the best way to help you.”</p><p>Your spirited expression dissolves and you sink down into your own body. You didn’t even have words to speak, “I — um, Eren — we…”</p><p>“‘<em> Show me, tell me! </em>’” He mocks, “You want me to show you what it’s like?”</p><p>You’re eyes are glued to his, searching for candor. </p><p>“C’mon,<em> communication </em> remember!” He exclaims, getting up in his seat, standing and making his way closer to you, “Yes or no? <em> You call it </em>.”</p><p>And then his messing around and teasing turned way too serious and way too genuine <em> way too fast </em>. He’s wicked with his words. And he most definitely knows your answer before you can even get it out. He’s got that smirk on his face again, that smirk that tells you that he knows everything he does to you, that tells you that he knows how he’s got you in a melting mess.</p><p>You can only look up to him, still sitting on your knees on the couch. You swallow hard.</p><p>For a moment you were stuck. Because this didn’t scare you the way it had with Owen. This didn’t have you panicking and worrying about the outcome. You didn’t <em> care </em> about the outcome. <em> Christ </em> , this didn’t even scare you... it <em> excited </em> you.</p><p>“<em> Yes </em>.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Third Base: Part One</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Eren's teaching methods may be questionable, but theyre helping Reader in more ways than one</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The kiss Eren gave you after he muttered, </span>
  <em>
    <span>‘this means nothing’</span>
  </em>
  <span> didn’t feel like </span>
  <em>
    <span>‘nothing’</span>
  </em>
  <span>. It completely took your breath away, emptying your lungs, and made your mind go to mush. He had leaned over your cowering body, grabbed ahold of your calves to yank you away from the armrest, and simultaneously pressed his lips to yours as he climbed over your body and pushed you into the couch cushion.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His right-hand cups your face gently while his left forearm braces him up. His touch was spiritually heavy; it was comforting and warm and in a way… grounding. He had slipped his waist between your thighs so your legs wrap around him and his hips were so close to being flush with your own.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Even though you hesitated to give him an answer, you didn’t hesitate to kiss him back. And once your mouth was on his again, it felt like a weight was lifted off your shoulders and even though you could barely breathe through the passion of the kiss… it felt like you could </span>
  <em>
    <span>breathe</span>
  </em>
  <span> again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He gave you a few short, gentle kisses before fully taking your lips in his; like he was sampling a taste of you before completely indulging. His lips were just as warm and soft as before, just as sensual and addictive and every slide of his tongue against yours had you falling harder and harder into your desire.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You didn’t know how far he was planning on going; you didn’t know if he was just going to go down on you then kick you out or if he was going to want something in return, maybe he’d even encourage you to go the </span>
  <em>
    <span>whole way</span>
  </em>
  <span>…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>No, no he wouldn't. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But you realize then that if he wanted to, if he wanted </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> to, that you would let him. You were so pathetically submissive and eager to please him that you would do anything he wanted just to hear him tell you how good you were.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You knew it was dangerous: the whole situation you both were putting yourselves in. You knew that it was reckless and risky and inconsiderate to Owen and overall stupid, but you couldn’t stop. Not when Eren was kissing you like this and making you feel things you’ve never felt before to the point where it has you trembling in his hands.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It could be just the fact that no one has ever touched you like this before… maybe that’s why you’re shaking the way you are. But something inside you seriously doubts it because what’s he’s doing to you and for you just feels </span>
  <em>
    <span>right</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eren’s right-hand falls from your face and down your torso until it reaches the hem of your sweatshirt. He pauses for a moment, then pulls away from you and rests his forehead against yours. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s out of breath, his face all flushed now that you can finally get a half-decent look at him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Every single step… I need to hear you tell me that what I’m doing is okay.” He says, “And if it’s not, you gotta tell me… and — and I’ll stop and we can be done and we don’t ever have to talk about this again if you don’t want to…” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s rambling and he knows it, but he can’t stop. He doesn’t want to go too far and ruin the progress, both in your experience </span>
  <em>
    <span>and</span>
  </em>
  <span> the fallen friendship between you, and have you distance yourself from him. He needs to know that this is okay, he needs to know that </span>
  <em>
    <span>you’re</span>
  </em>
  <span> okay.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Both of you know that whatever this relationship is isn’t the best way to build back up the foundations of your childhood friendship. Something about scientists and saying something like </span>
  <em>
    <span>‘don’t have a friends with benefits relationship with someone you’re actually friends with because your brain will associate the endorphins released during an orgasm to them and then you’ll get attached’</span>
  </em>
  <span> runs through both of your heads for a brief moment but is quickly discarded because neither of you </span>
  <em>
    <span>care</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is this okay?” He says, enunciating each syllable and touching down onto the skin of your lower stomach with his fingertips</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” You whisper, swallowing hard and nodding against his forehead.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His palm makes contact with your bare skin, sliding up your side and caressing it gently. His touch is heavy and hot the same way it was before. It has you taking in a gasp before he kisses you again. You can’t stop yourself from squirming underneath his body, feeling your chest rub against his own and his hips brushing against yours… so close to making that contact that you crave.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eren can feel you falling apart already, he can hear your breathing grow ragged and the soft whimpers getting caught up in your throat. He can quite literally feel his cock twitch with every catching of your breathing every time his fingers brush against the underwire of your bra. He can feel his restraint running thin already.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When he takes your bottom lip between his teeth, pulling against it lightly until you gasp, your whole body jerks below him, and your hips rut against him. You can feel gentle pressure against your clit through the thin material of your leggings and embarrassingly, you let out a soft moan with your jaw dropping open. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eren feels that stupid pretty noise you let out go straight to his dick then swim around in his stomach and his own mouth falls open.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Fuck</span>
  </em>
  <span> —” He mutters, barely loud enough for you to hear. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But my God, do you hear it. Your hands slide up his chest and around his neck, pulling him back to you and back into a kiss. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And it’s like that for a while, all slow and sensual, just tasting each other’s tongue and savoring it as you’ll never be able to get it again; swallowing each other’s gasps and moans and storing them in your heads for later when you’re both alone in your own homes and can finally indulge and be honest with yourselves.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And he’s so careful with you every step of the way. He’s completely tuned into your body and your reactions to every inch his fingers shift against your skin. He reads into every little noise you make and every twitch of your stomach and squeezing of your legs around his waist. Every time, every single time when a sound you make comes out sounds questioning or second-guessing, he pauses. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“‘m gonna keep going okay?” He pulls away from you, hovering over you to get a good look at your face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And when he does get that look, he completely falls apart inside. Your hair is splayed out all pretty between your head and the couch cushion, your face has taken on glossy shine from sweat, and your lips are swollen and parted, slick with a sheen of saliva from your messy kissing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Please.” You breathe, bringing your hands down his shoulders, over his biceps, to rest on his forearms to feel the way they flex under your palms as he pulls his hand out from your shirt.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eren swallows hard at your answer before he sits back against his calves and grabs the throw pillow behind him, bringing it forward and sliding it under your head. Then he dips both hands back under your sweatshirt and hooking his fingers under the waistband of your leggings. He doesn’t even look down at his hands as they tug your leggings down your hips slowly, he looks to your face and holds eye contact with you as you look up to him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He realizes once more the amount of trust you’re putting into him. The way you’re looking at him like your entire life is in the palm of his hands like you’re completely handing yourself over to him… it has his heart swelling in his chest. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>You suck in a little breath of air as your leggings are tugged over your hips and rest at the very top of your thighs, exposing the jade green pair of panties your wearing. But Eren doesn’t look, he keeps holding that eye contact that has you wanting to crawl inside your own body… but you can’t look away from him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This okay?” He asks, pulling the fabric down farther as you lift your hips to help him, it’s pulled down your legs and over the apex of your thighs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You nod, breaking eye contact and looking down at his hands as your leggings are pulling over your knees.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Need to hear it.” He reminds you, smiling softly as he pauses just below your knees.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, this is okay.” You say, lips quirking up in embarrassment or admiration or something.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But Eren continues pulling the waistband down to your ankles and you lift your feet off the cushion so he can slip the fabric over them and away from your body. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>You can feel your heart thumping around in your chest, ramming against your rib cage like a bird trying to break free. You were scared out of your mind but you felt fine, you felt safe, and even though you were scared… the arousal was outweighing it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After Eren lets the piece of clothing fall the floor, he brings himself back over you to take your lips in his once more. This kiss was a little different from the ones before; this one pulled you out of your head and your insecurity and brought you back to him, he was letting you know that you’re okay and that he’s okay and that </span>
  <em>
    <span>this</span>
  </em>
  <span> is okay.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The kiss is short because then he’s kissing down your neck real softly, making sure he’s not leaving any marks until he meets the collar of your sweatshirt. He grabs the bottom hem of your sweatshirt once more and looks up at you.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can I have you hold this for me?” He asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” You speak softly, reaching down to replace his hands with yours and pulling up the fabric until it gathers just below your breasts.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He shifts down the couch, bringing his face to the end of your sternum that remains exposed and placing a gentle kiss upon your skin. He looks into your eyes again as he does so, looking for any signs of doubt before he continues. He finds none.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eren kisses gently down your stomach, taking the sides of your torso in his hands as he does so. He can feel your stomach tense up under his lips, can feel your skin twitch and the goosebumps that flutter across your flesh. You can feel every exhaled breath he takes against your skin, warm and steady and fanning across your body. Once your head falls back against the pillow he’d set behind it, he allows himself to close his eyes and put all focus to where his lips meet your skin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You’re so soft and warm under him. He does a few experimental squeezes of your sides, feeling the way your supple skin gives under the pressure. Then his lips continue lower, gentle and careful open-mouthed kisses down the center of your stomach. Every time he inches a bit lower, you can feel your heart begging to beat a bit faster in your chest. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Eren reaches the hem of your panties, he stops and looks back up at you.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is this okay?” He asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And you bring your head up, bringing your grip on your sweatshirt to the sides of it so you can rest up on your elbows.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, can — can you </span>
  <em>
    <span>give me a second please</span>
  </em>
  <span>?” You whisper, voice getting all tiny and you close your eyes, taking in a deep shaky breath.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eren lets you, bringing his hands to your now bare thighs and sitting back again to give you space. He looks over your face as you ground yourself, rubbing gentle circles with his thumbs against the skin of your thighs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Eren — I’m — please…  </span>
  <em>
    <span>please</span>
  </em>
  <span> don’t make fun of me… or anything.” You mutter, crinkling your nose and bringing your hands to your face, and rubbing at your eyes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eren can feel his heart ache in his chest at your plea.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey,” He gives your thigh a gentle pat, “What did I say before?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You peek out at him through your hands, “That you wouldn’t make fun of me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>‘That I wouldn’t make fun of you,’</span>
  </em>
  <span>” He repeats, “I promise.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You nod, closing your eyes again out of embarrassment, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Okay…</span>
  </em>
  <span> you can keep going.” You speak into your exhale.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eren has to take a moment before he allows himself to grab ahold of the flimsy fabric of your panties. He has to pause and take in a deep breath, run his hands over your waist and close his eyes before he completely falls apart.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then, he takes the part of the waistband that rests just above your hips between his fingers and begins to slide them down slowly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>This was the first time that anyone other than you or your doctor or your parents were going to see the most intimate parts of you. And it was just anyone who was about to do this… it was Eren. Eren Jaeger. The boy you grew up with, the boy you played tag within your basement and swung on swings with at the park, the boy who was your first crush and picked you up off the blacktop pavement after you fell off your bike. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>That boy, that so same but so different boy, was now sliding those jade green panties down and over your hips, over your thighs and knees, down your calves, and off of your ankles. You could feel your face get all hot, you could feel your legs shaking as you lift your feet for him. You have to let your head drop back against the pillow and bring your forearm over your eyes. My God you were so embarrassed, so insecure when there was no reason to be. But you just couldn’t help it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then you feel Eren’s hands on your right leg, one cupped under your knee and one holding your ankle in his palm. Then, you feel something soft, his lips, pressing against your calf gently. Eren looks up at your hidden face as he kisses up your leg, occasionally nipping at the skin with his teeth just enough to get you to gasp for him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You had no idea if the biting and the body worship was a normal thing to happen when someone goes down on someone else, but you couldn’t think too much of it because every press of his mouth to your skin has arousal bubbling low in your stomach. And you could feel the cold air grow colder when it reaches the slick that’s gathered at your center.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You can feel Eren’s lips come up your thighs, up over your left hip, and back up your stomach until he reaches your face. His right hand comes up to the forearm that’s slung over your eyes and takes your wrist in his hand. Your eyes crack open and you see his face in front of you, lips turned into a soft smile. You can feel the fabric of his sweatpants brush against your skin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is this okay?” He asks moving his face closer to yours until your noses are no more than an inch away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” You whisper, bringing your hand up to his neck, pulling him down to you, and kissing him softly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eren could almost swear he felt his heart stop because this kiss didn’t feel the same as the others did. It felt… </span>
  <em>
    <span>real</span>
  </em>
  <span>. He knows that all the other ones were real too, of course they were, but the one shared between you two just now, had something more than pure lust behind it. And you felt it too. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eren pulls away from you, looking into your eyes for a moment before bringing his hands back to your sides and kissing your stomach. He doesn’t look down to where he wants to yet, he doesn’t want to make you more nervous than you already are. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But then he presses a kiss just right below your waistline and he hears you gasp.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Eren</span>
  </em>
  <span> —” You breathe, hands balling into fists at your sides. He’s so close to where you want him you can barely take it anymore.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His name out of your mouth goes straight to his dick, throbbing in his pants and pathetically leaking precum. He doesn’t even care, my God, Eren doesn’t even care if he ends up cumming in his pants. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tell me — </span>
  <em>
    <span>communication</span>
  </em>
  <span> — tell me what you want.” His words are spoken against your skin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t — don’t make me, </span>
  <em>
    <span>please</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” You whine, covering your face with your hands again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“C’mon, lemme hear you, or I’m stopping.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You let out a little groan of frustration before speaking, “Please — touch me, </span>
  <em>
    <span>please</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It wasn’t exactly what Eren was looking for, but he, himself, couldn’t want any longer to put his hands on you. So he mumbles a quick, </span>
  <em>
    <span>‘good enough’</span>
  </em>
  <span> before bringing himself in front of your cunt.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You can feel his breath hot against the sensitive skin, fanning out over your thighs and stomach. He brings his hands down to your hips, holding you steady. You feel like you’re going to explode, </span>
  <em>
    <span>literally</span>
  </em>
  <span> explode. You’re a blushing, stammering, needy, and pathetic mess, and if you’re so nervous to feel his tongue on you but you </span>
  <em>
    <span>need it</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Eren, please — </span>
  <em>
    <span>oh</span>
  </em>
  <span>,”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You can feel his left thumb on your clit, circling it slowly while the rest of his hand rests flat on your stomach. It wasn’t exactly what you wanted, but you weren’t really specific with him when you said </span>
  <em>
    <span>‘touch me’</span>
  </em>
  <span> and you were in no way complaining.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eren feels your legs clamp around his shoulders, twitching and trembling as he continues the gentle pressure on your clit. And then he brings his face forward, looking at your face as his tongue licks a broad stripe against the crease of your thigh.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was </span>
  <em>
    <span>teasing</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Earlier this day you had told him that you liked teasing and that bastard </span>
  <em>
    <span>remembered it</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eren knew what he was doing, he knew exactly what he was doing, and he would keep doing it too because he was loving the reaction he was pulling out of you. Every lick of his tongue against the skin of your thighs had you letting out sweet breathy moans and they were like music to his ears.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Please, </span>
  <em>
    <span>please — Eren</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” You whimper, fists clenching and unclenching, rising into the air and hovering above your stomach.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eren listens to your pleas and runs the tip of his tongue through your real slow, all the way from your entrance to where his thumb is on your clit. And then his tongue replaces his thumb and his hands come to your thighs to hold you steady. He can taste you, tart, and saccharine over his tastebuds, and he has to hold in a groan.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Oh my god</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” You whine, unable to stop your left hand from coming to the back of his head and lacing into his pretty brown hair.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eren couldn’t care less if you were tugging on his hair too hard or squeezing his shoulders too hard with your thighs, all he cares about at this moment is you… all he </span>
  <em>
    <span>could</span>
  </em>
  <span> care about at this moment was you.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Having someone’s tongue on you, licking through you and tasting you on their tongue, felt nothing like you could have ever expected. It was so warm, so gentle against your skin, far more gentle than fingers are, and it was so wet. And </span>
  <em>
    <span>holy fuck</span>
  </em>
  <span> did it feel good.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His tongue flicked gently against your clit and every so often he’ll bring it back down to slide over your dripping hole just to keep you on edge. He grabs ahold of your thighs and pulls them up and over his shoulders so they rest on either side of his head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You were squirming and shaking, thighs squeezing his head with every drag of his tongue, and you felt that hot arousal beginning to wind up low in your stomach.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And Eren couldn’t stop himself from grinding his hips into the couch. It was pathetic of him to do but the way you were reacting to his every single movement had him so fucking desperate for more.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You can feel his thumb return to your clit again as his tongue slides back down to swallow up the slick arousal that leaks from your needy cunt. You could feel him pressing inside you, licking you up, and drinking you down like he was stranded in a desert and you were water. Then, he breaches your entrance and pushes his tongue inside you.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Fuck</span>
  </em>
  <span> — Eren.” You hiss, hips rutting up against his mouth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was inside you. His </span>
  <em>
    <span>tongue</span>
  </em>
  <span> was inside you. Someone else other than you was</span>
  <em>
    <span> inside you</span>
  </em>
  <span>. And it had you on edge and it was scary but it felt so so good. Your entire body was melting, your hands had a tight hold on his hair and your legs were quivering around his head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“More — </span>
  <em>
    <span>fuck</span>
  </em>
  <span> — can I have more, please.” You beg, your head pressing into the pillow and back going into a pretty arch.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eren pulls away from you, tongue, lips, and chin slick with arousal and saliva, “Tell me what you want.” His voice is strained, all raspy and ragged as his thumb continues its tight circles on your clit.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You’re panting, your chest heaving, “Fingers — inside, </span>
  <em>
    <span>please Eren</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eren’s jaw drops slightly and you can hear the groan that leaves his lips in reaction to your words. Once again, your begging goes straight to his cock.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>God</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” He hisses, taking his thumb off your clit to use the fingers on his left hand. He takes his middle finger, outstretching it slightly so the tip of it rests against your entrance.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And Eren can feel your pretty little cunt flutter against his tongue, begging for him, begging for something to fill it up real nice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is this —”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes,” You interrupt, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Please</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eren couldn’t say no to that. He couldn’t deny the desperation in your voice. So, slowly, his middle finger presses against you and slips inside with little resistance. Your mouth falls open and you can barely let out the moan that gets trapped in your throat because Eren’s middle finger is now inside you.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He can feel your cunt stretch around his digit, fluttering and pulsing against him, coating him in your slick and sucking him in. He can feel you leaking around his finger at the intrusion, can feel every rivet inside your plush walls squeeze him so tight. And he was watching the way you took him in, watching your perfect pussy stretch around his finger real pretty and drag him all the way in until he reaches the hilt.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Oh g — god</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” You cry, heels digging into the muscles in his back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>This was nothing, </span>
  <em>
    <span>nothing</span>
  </em>
  <span> like it was when your own fingers were inside you. It was nowhere near close. His fingers were thicker and longer, and bonier, and every notch of his knuckles against you had you jerking around below him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That feeling low in your stomach was growing tighter and hotter as Eren only fed gasoline to the fire. He began curling his finger ever so slightly as he simultaneously slid it in and out of you. And with one specific thrust and drag, he was rubbing his fingerpad against your sweet spot. And then he kept doing it over and over </span>
  <em>
    <span>and over</span>
  </em>
  <span> and you swore you were seeing stars.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yes, you’ve hit your g-spot before but not like this, not this repeatedly or tenderly. None of it was the same with him. And for a moment you have no idea how you’re going to ever get off without him again.  Because nothing you could ever do to yourself could ever make you feel the way he was making you feel.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Another, please add another.” You beg, sitting up on your elbows to watch him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You couldn’t even be embarrassed anymore, you were too overwhelmed with pleasure to even care. And when Eren brings his head up to look at you while he adds another finger and slides his tongue over your clit he can feel you clench around his two fingers. Both of you let out a low groan of pleasure, and Eren gives you a smile with his tongue still lolled out of his mouth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Your head falls back against your shoulders as sweet waves of pleasure flows through your entire body. You can’t keep in the whiny moans that build in your throat anymore, they flow out past your lips as you squeeze your eyes shut.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eren’s fingers pick up their pace, thrusting in and out of you and the knuckles of his other fingers gently slap against your cunt. His tongue continues its assault, drinking up the arousal that slips around his fingers then flicking real nicely against your clit. It was wet and sloppy, you were coated in yourself and his own saliva, but both of them only aided in lubrication for his fingers. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Eren — I - I’m — I” You stammer, jaw still slacked as you bring your head up to look at him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>This image was going to be burned into your brain forever. His pretty face between your thighs, finger’s knuckle deep inside you, tongue lapping at your cunt, heels pressing into his shoulders as he brought you to your orgasm.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Please, cum for me, cum on my fingers.” He takes his tongue off you to speak. And then he’s moving your leg off of him and crawling up your body to lay on his side to your left.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With your hand that remains in his hair, you grab a good hold on him and pull his lips to yours. His mouth was still wet with his saliva and your slick and you can taste yourself on his tongue as you kiss him so sloppily you can barely believe it’s you controlling your mouth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His fingers curl inside you and that wound up release finally snaps. You let out a series of broken moans into his mouth as you cum all over his fingers, coating them in the viscous release. And you can feel Eren’s cock, hard and throbbing, against your hip, his own hips subconsciously rutting against you for any relief of tension he can get.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Your whole body trembles, legs shaking and thighs clasping around his hand as he coaxes you through your release. It was euphoria. It was like nothing you’ve ever felt before. And all those years of remaining celibate were all of a sudden crashing into you and reminding you what you’ve been missing out on this entire time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuck, fuck — </span>
  <em>
    <span>good girl</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” He chuckles, smiling against your lips as you pull away from him to breathe.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Slowly, his own hips still and his fingers slide out of you only for you to feel your creamy release slide out of your cunt and down your ass. Gently, he slides his fingers up to your clit, gently circling it with your slick still on his fingertips to ease you down your high. And your body was still jerking with the aftershocks as he did so, legs kicking and twitching and your chest heaving as your hand falls from his hair to his shoulders to ground you. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And when you finally manage to catch your breath and his hand finally pulls away from your cunt to take your waist in his hand, fingers still wet against your skin, you let out a breathy chuckle of a different kind of relief and let your eyes fall shut.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You did so good,” He mumbles against your temple before pressing a kiss to your forehead.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There it was. You could feel your heart swell in your chest and your cheeks heat up from his praise and a big grin spreads across your face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not only did you successfully pass third base, but you allowed yourself to be vulnerable. You opened yourself up and told Eren what you wanted from him. That same confidence from the first time was flowing through you once more. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>You turn to him and open your eyes, your faces still rather close together, noses only a breath apart. His lips are quirked into a smile. For a moment, you just look at each other like that, basking in the post-orgasmic bliss. His eyes are soft and full of admiration as he draws little shapes on your side with his thumb</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you,” You whisper, just loud enough for him to hear.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His head drops against yours as he laughs lightly, chest moving and hand coming up to cup your face for a moment before he pulls away from you. But as he does, his hips rub against your side along with his still painfully hard cock. And neither of you can ignore it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Shit</span>
  </em>
  <span> — I’m sorry, I don’t wanna make you uncomfortable or anything,” He shifts on the couch to lay facing the ceiling and pulling his dick away from your body. Since he’s closest to the edge, he reaches down to the floor and hands your panties to you. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>You absentmindedly pull them up your still shaky legs, but before he can pull himself away from you, you grab his left wrist in your hand. He pauses turning his head to face you.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No. Teach me.” You say, looking straight into his eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eren pauses for a second to figure out what you mean, and once it hits him he immediately begins to protest your suggestion.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, I can’t let you —”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Please,” You get up to your knees, still sitting beside him but now turned enough to be facing him, your thighs pressing against his. You swing your right leg over his hips to straddle his waist, taking his face in your hands. His dick is still throbbing under your cunt.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eren thinks it over for a moment. It’s not like he doesn’t want you to, he wants nothing more than to stuff your mouth with his cock and fuck your throat, but he can’t. He can’t indulge in his desires to teach you this. Receiving was so much different than giving. He would feel like he’s taking advantage of you.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Teach me,” You say, hands on his chest and a sweet excited look on your face. That adrenaline was still running through you, that same kind of adrenaline that got you into this situation. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eren lets out an exhale, closing his eyes because firstly, you were right on his hard-on, and secondly, because he was trying to figure out a way to teach you what you wanted to be taught.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Here,” He says, bringing his hand up to your face, “I’ll teach you but not with my dick.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You settle in his lap, quirking your brows in confusion… maybe a little bit of disappointment. You look to his hand that remains hovering just in front of your face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Take my fingers, the two middle ones, and hold down the others.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You begin to understand what he’s getting at and take his wrist in both of your hands, folding down his pointer finger and pinky finger and holding them closed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Watch your teeth,” He says, pushing into your hands and bringing his two fingers forward until the tips of them press against your kiss swollen lips, “Open.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You part your lips and let him push his two fingers inside your mouth, sliding against your tongue until the tips rest at the back of your throat. You gag, but only slightly, throat closing around the parts of his digits that it reaches. You can still taste yourself on his skin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eren groans lowly as he feels your mouth close around him, engulfing his fingers in hot and wet warmth, seeing your pretty lips wrapped around his skin, feeling your throat tighten up against him. Seeing you sitting all pretty in his lap, his fingers stuffed in your mouth, grinding up against his cock, </span>
  <em>
    <span>God</span>
  </em>
  <span> he can barely contain himself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Now pull them out slowly, keep your tongue flush and your teeth away.” He says, placing his free hand on your hip and squeezing gently.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You listen to him, keeping your tongue pressed against the underside of his fingers and simultaneously pulling them out and your head back until you reach the very first knuckle. His fingers are glistening with your saliva, dripping down his hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good, now take your mouth off but use your tongue to run on the underside of them.” He commands, still looking into your eyes even though your own glances shift from his to his fingers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You pull your lips away from him, a slimy string of saliva trailing from his fingertips to your bottom lip. You giggle at it, pulling your head away farther to try and break it. But Eren’s hand on your hip comes up to break off the spit with his thumb, but before he brings his hand back down to your waist he slips his thumb past his own lips, cleaning off your spit with his.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Fuck</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” You mutter, almost a whimper, then his hand is back on your waist. You can feel it swarm around in your stomach.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When nods towards his hand, gesturing you to continue, you listen. You stick your tongue out, mouth open, and tilt your head forward to lick a broad strip all the way from his wrist to the tip of his fingers. It was a little more than what he asked for, but the choked up noise that comes from his throat makes it worth it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, then take them into — </span>
  <em>
    <span>yeah</span>
  </em>
  <span>, just like that.” He laughs a little as you bring his fingers into your mouth again before he even tells you to.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And when his fingers brush against the back of your throat again, you gag around them once more, sending your stomach flexing and hips squirming. You can feel Eren still </span>
  <em>
    <span>very</span>
  </em>
  <span> very hard beneath you, your cunt still grinding right over his cock. It’s self-indulgent, he knows, but with the hand on your waist, he guides your hips over him once again, just like he did the first time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For both of you, it was beginning to feel like you were using the teaching as an excuse to get with each other. And his fingers in your mouth, even though they obviously were insinuating to something more, felt like they were foreshadowing towards something more between you two.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Even though his fingers were obviously not his dick, every drag of your tongue and suck of your mouth had blood flowing straight south and pleasure swarming around in his stomach. For a moment he was worried he was going to cum from your mouth on his hands alone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bring ‘em out again.” He mutters, completely entranced by your mouth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You listen to him again, closing your lips around his fingers and pulling them off a little less sloppily this time. And if he can sense the pool of saliva that’s gathered in your mouth he says, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Spit on it</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not </span>
  <em>
    <span>‘them’</span>
  </em>
  <span> as in fingers, not </span>
  <em>
    <span>‘them’</span>
  </em>
  <span> as in his hands... he said </span>
  <em>
    <span>‘it’</span>
  </em>
  <span> as if he was referencing his dick. And Eren swears he can feel your cunt pulse against his cock at his words.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You bring all the saliva in your mouth to the front behind your lips, then you pucker your lips and push the spit past them with your jaw hovering over his hand so the spit that dribbles out and down them lands on his fingers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuck —” He hisses, because yes, he most definitely was picturing it was his dick you were spitting on and not his fingers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was all too much, far too much, and far too far. You both knew that afterward… afterward the sexual tension will turn to awkward tension and you’ll both ghost each other until the next time something else happens with Owen and you’ll be forced to come crawling back to him. But then both of you know the distance will be for the better because if either of you got any closer, this situation could turn south so very fast.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay — fuck, c’mere.” He wipes his hand on his sweatpants, grabs your hips in his hands, and pulls you against him, taking your lips in his again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You can only moan into his mouth, his tongue lapping and sliding against yours. His hands pulling you over his cock, and you were ten times more sensitive than before because of the lack of layers between you as well as your previous orgasm. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Once again, Eren didn’t care about busting into his pants… in fact, he was working towards that. He was working towards getting the both of you off.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And It wasn’t hard.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Over time, Eren had become accustomed to the feeling of girls grinding on top of him, but with you on top of him, </span>
  <em>
    <span>he</span>
  </em>
  <span> felt like the virgin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It took only a good minute or two of pathetic grinding and sloppy kissing before you were completely falling apart on top of him, whining against his neck and digging your fingers into his biceps as you cum around nothing. And Eren’s not far behind you. Once he feels your hips spasm around on top of him and hears you whine his name and tell him you’re cumming, he’s gone. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eren cums hard, with a low groan and his head fallen back on his shoulders. He can’t even remember the last time he had cum in his pants. He thinks maybe it was sometime around sophomore year. But he doesn’t even care.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You’re practically on the moon with ecstasy, your brain getting all foggy and body turning to mush as you collapse on top of him, your head fulling resting down on his shoulders as you pant against his neck.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His hands run over your ass and under your sweatshirt, caressing your body slowly and soothingly to help you down. You can only wrap your arms around his neck, holding onto him like he’s an anchor.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And even though you were in this come-down haze, you didn’t regret a single thing. And you knew in a few days from now, in spite of the embarrassment, you still wouldn’t.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think,” Eren gives your ass a gentle pat with his right hand, “That was some progress.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He can hear you let out a little laugh against his neck, it’s real tiny but it’s there. But the embarrassment begins to flood through you and your arms recoil from his neck to rest between both of your chests, but you keep your head on his shoulder.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For a moment, Eren thinks he might’ve taken it too far, pushed you more than you think you can handle. He feels guilty, like he’s indulged in your vulnerability. But then you’re there to reassure him, even when you don’t know.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you,” You whisper, “For not making fun of me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eren lets out a breathy laugh, bringing a hand up to your head and holding you against him, “Yeah, yeah.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He holds you tight against his chest, petting at the top of your head gently. You can feel his heartbeat beginning to slow under your fists, patting nice and heavy against his ribcage. The silence, now at least, wasn’t awkward. The silence was content, and comforting, and felt </span>
  <em>
    <span>right</span>
  </em>
  <span> as you both regained composure.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You didn’t know what would come out of this. You didn’t know if this impulsive decision between the both of you would allow Eren to continue to help you without any complications. You wanted it to continue, the only one you wanted to help you from now on out was him. You couldn’t imagine it being anyone else.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’re going to have to talk about this later…” He says, a little quieter than before, and you can feel his voice rumble deep in his chest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You close your eyes and nestle a little further into the crook of his neck, “I know, just — just sit like this… just for now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just for now.” He says, both to himself and to you.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And neither of you knew it yet, but both of you have already broken what will come to be your second rule.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. The Aftermath</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>After previous events, Eren and Reader practice communication once more by setting some boundaries.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <span>“Hello, to whom am I speaking?”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Your mom had said through the phone. On the other end of the line was Eren, who was now calling her due to your sleeping figure on his living room couch.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hi ma’am, this is Eren… Jaeger.” Eren’s cautious of his volume, not wanting to wake you.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s been a few hours since you fell asleep on top of him, your arms still wrapped around his neck and legs still straddled his waist. He had carefully moved you off of him, gently setting your head atop the pillow and grabbing a throw blanket to lay over your bare legs. He couldn’t stay with you while you slept, he was already pushing his boundaries.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Eren? Oh, honey, I haven’t seen you in forever! How are you?”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Your mom beams. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The last time Eren and your mom had spoken was at a dinner party at your house, Armin’s family had attended as well. She had asked Eren about college. But other than that, due to the distancing between you and Eren, they haven’t spoken at all. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m doing well, thank you. How are you?” Eren rises in his seat to look over the back of the couch to check your status. He sits at his kitchen table, the same one from the first night you were with him, with his laptop open to a school document and the pale glow of the computer illuminating his face.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I’m wonderful, thank you for asking,”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Eren can almost hear her smile, </span>
  <em>
    <span>“I’m assuming you’re calling on behalf of my child? She told me she’d be back around three and well… it’s a bit later than three. And we aren’t really the ones to have a casual phone conversation together.”</span>
  </em>
  <span> She laughs</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah. We went to lunch after her exam then came back to my place. She ended up falling asleep on the couch.” Eren smiles, glancing back over to you once more.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Oh of course. You know how those exams are, I bet she’s exhausted.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh yeah, I’ll have her call you when she wakes up if that’s alright,” Eren suggests.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That would be wonderful, thank you. Come visit sometime soon, Eren, don’t be a stranger,” She says genuinely.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Every once and a while she’ll ask about Eren or Armin and how they’re doing or what they’re up to. And you’ll have to tell her the same thing every time,</span>
  <em>
    <span> ‘they’re good, Mom. No, I don’t know what they’re doing’</span>
  </em>
  <span> because you didn’t have the heart to tell her that you’re not as close to them as you used to be.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course. It was nice speaking with you.” Eren can feel his face grow hot at your mother’s request.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“You too, honey. Bye-bye.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Moments after the call had ended, you had shot up; fully awake and temporarily disoriented. You had an old blanket strewn over your body, one you recognize making with Eren at a school fundraiser event in fourth grade, and your hair was astray around your head. When you shift your legs around, you panic at the sensation of the blanket over your bare thighs, realizing that you don’t have pants on.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jesus, you have a nightmare or something?” You hear Eren chuckle from your right.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You jerk your head towards his voice to see him sitting at the table with his computer screen blocking off the bottom half of his face from your vision.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was the blue hour, the sun had just set and now a milky cool-blue has flooded itself across the once sunset-pink sky. You can just see the little indirect glow of the setting sun in the West. The house smelled like a blend between a comforting tomato smell and something floury, it made your mouth water. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eren had the oven light on over whatever was cooking on the stovetop, and the only other light in the house was the one above the breakfast bar counter that was just behind the couch. He had his hair pulled back behind his head and black-rimmed glasses sitting on the bridge of his nose, he also had changed sweatpants.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then you realize why you’re here, that embarrassment that you were worried about earlier begins to flood through you.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Didn’t know you wore glasses,” You look to him but shy away quickly, your skin growing hot at the recollection of earlier, “What time is it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eren closes his laptop slowly, then glances to the oven clock, “6:19”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Six?!” Your eyes grow wide, “Oh my god, my mom’s going to kill me.” You hold the blanket close to your body as you reach over the side of the couch to grab your leggings that were discarded on the floor.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I called her just before you woke up, ‘told her you’d call her once you did,” Eren says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You slip your feet through your leggings quickly, then pull the waistband up your legs. You remain seated on the couch as you lift your hips to pull them up. Once you’re completely clothed you toss the blanket aside and stand up, legs a little wobbly, but you stand. You blink a few times in an attempt to collect yourself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I fell asleep?” You’re speaking out loud, not really looking for an answer. You cautiously look around for your phone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Guess you were all fucked out, huh?” Eren snickers, getting up from his chair to stir the wooden spoon that rests in the saucepan on the stove.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You cringe, picking up your phone from the coffee table beside the armrest, “Don’t say that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eren faces away from you as you make your way around the couch, one hand stirring while the other fiddles with the flame settings of the other pot on the stove. You stop to set your phone on the breakfast counter, watching him intently as he continues tending to whatever he’s made.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I need to go,” You say, waiting for him to turn around and say something before you move for your shoes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Stay for dinner, ‘made enough for you. We need to talk, anyways.” He doesn’t look to you as he speaks, convinced you’ll stay due to his stated reasons.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And you do, you mumble a little, </span>
  <em>
    <span>‘okay’</span>
  </em>
  <span> before sliding yourself into one of the bar chairs and resting your arms on the countertop. His kindness makes your chest tight with admiration and you’re still taking in the fact that you had fallen asleep at Eren’s house after he fingered your lights out; someone who, up until just over a week ago, you hadn’t spoken to for more than a few minutes at a time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Call your mom.” He reminds you.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You don’t verbally acknowledge him, but he knows you’ve listened by the series of monotonous beeps and the dull ringing that follows his request. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>You didn’t know how your mom had reacted to his call, so you had no idea how she would react to yours.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Goodmorning, sweet girl!”</span>
  </em>
  <span> She laughs through the line. Eren must have told her you had fallen asleep.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hi, mom. I’m just at Eren’s. ‘Think I’m going to stay for dinner if that’s okay?” You mumble, shying away from speaking too loud. You knew Eren could hear you, but something on talking about him with your mom made you sheepish.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You can hear her chuckle once more through the phone before responding, </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Yes, that’s alright. Tell Eren I said ‘hi’ once more… and text me when you’re on your way home, please.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yep, I will. Love you, bye.” You hang up after she says </span>
  <em>
    <span>‘I love you’</span>
  </em>
  <span> back, then press your lips into a line as you set your phone back down, “She says ‘hi’, again.” You speak lowly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eren laughs softly as he turns off the heat to the larger pot then grabs the black handles on the side and makes his way over to the sink that’s to your left and set in the corner of the ‘L’ shaped counter. You notice the sink already has a strainer that sits in the bottom and realize he’s made some sort of noodles and sauce. His reading glasses fog up slightly as he pours the contents of the pot into the strainer, and he has to turn his head away from the steam. You smile softly as he scrunches his nose from the heat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can you turn off the heat on the other one over there?” He asks, nodding his head back towards the stove.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Although he’s focused on the things in front of him, you give him a nod and slip out of the barstool. You watch the muscles in his back strain against the fabric of his sweatshirt as you round the corner of the counter and walk straight forward to the stove. In the tiny saucepan was just simple marinara sauce, and you’d never thought that such a basic food would pull such a strong sense of hunger from inside you.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Didn’t pick you as a cook.” You turn down the heat, teasing him slightly at his simple choice of a meal.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m actually majoring in Italian cuisine.” He falsely claims, playing into your fun. Once all the water is strained out from the noodles, he pours them all back into the dark grey pot, they meet the bottom with an audible plopping sound.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You shift aside to the counter, turning and leaning back against it with your arms crossed over your chest to watch him as he brings the pot back over and sets it atop the stove again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bowls are just above you,” He says, reaching to his right to grab a dish that has a stick of butter on it. He pulls open the drawer beside him for a knife then uses it to take a good chunk out of the butter and drops it into the noodles.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Want some noodles with your butter?” You pull open the cabinets above you and take ahold of two ceramic bowls that were glazed over with white and burnt-orange decals.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shut it,” He takes the pasta spoon from earlier and uses it to stir in the melting butter.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The bowls clink together as you set them onto the granite countertop and Eren’s eyes flit to the side to watch you place them down. He pulls another flush of heat across your body and you have to look away from him once more. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But wasn’t just his eyes that had you feeling warm. Seeing him so calm and peaceful, relaxed within the normalcy of his own home, made your heart ache so tenderly. His sleeves pushed up his forearms to expose his calloused and scarred hands acting so sedentary and so gentle; it was such a contrast to how he was normally seen. He was sharing a part of himself that was so foreign to others.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It almost felt wrong. You felt too close to him far too quickly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hope you’re okay with the sex talk while eating this time,” He says, grabbing one of the bowls from in front of you and filling it with spaghetti noodles. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do I even have a choice?” You say with a smug look on your face as you finally look at him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He holds the now noodle-filled bowl out in front of you, just above the other saucepan, “No. Here.” He shakes the bowl slightly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You take it from his hand with a tiny smile on your face and turn to grab the wooden spoon in the saucepan, scooping out a decent amount of the red sauce and dropping it atop the noodles. Eren mirrors your actions once you step aside. And once he’s finished, he grabs a pair of forks from the drawers and guides you towards the kitchen table.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You sit quietly, focused on stirring the marinara with the noodles until it’s evenly dispersed, giving him the time to speak first. He sits in the chair that he had pushed out of a week ago to kiss you, just to your right and on your perpendicular. He sets his laptop on the chair to his left.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I usually have a few rules,” He begins, stirring within his own bowl, “When I… </span>
  <em>
    <span>get with girls</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You stifle a laugh at his awkwardness. Eren was very much aware of his sexual status as well as the copious amounts of people that want to sleep with him, but he was always surprisingly humble about it. He didn’t make a big deal of it; like it was a school extracurricular or something.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But obviously ours are going to be a little different because of… </span>
  <em>
    <span>circumstances</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” He smiles, twisting around his fork, “The first one should be a given, but sometimes it’s not for some girls… </span>
  <em>
    <span>I don’t know</span>
  </em>
  <span>. But </span>
  <em>
    <span>my</span>
  </em>
  <span> first rule: always ask for consent… both ways.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You nod as you take your first bite of food, both out of acknowledgment and appreciation. It sounds ridiculous, but the pure act of asking for permission was quite foreign these days; and even though it’s the bare minimum, it’s so deeply admired.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Second one: no cuddling, which we’ve already partially broken and is also the reason why I got you off me,” He continues, “But, it can’t happen anymore.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That rule almost hurts. It’s understandable, but it hurts. Eren’s going to be taking your first </span>
  <em>
    <span>everything</span>
  </em>
  <span>, maybe everything, and you aren’t even allowed to lay with him. After something like he did today, you find yourself </span>
  <em>
    <span>wanting</span>
  </em>
  <span> to be close to him… which is probably why it’s best not to.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So, you nod as you chew.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Third: communication.” He chuckles, “You’re going to need to tell me everything you’re feeling… good or bad, inside and outside of sexual situations. This kind of goes with consent but it’s a little different.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His statements are just now beginning to catch up with you in the time period aspect. He’s speaking as if </span>
  <em>
    <span>this</span>
  </em>
  <span> is going to happen again, speaking as it </span>
  <em>
    <span>will</span>
  </em>
  <span> happen again. He’s speaking on behalf of incidents in the past but also covering the possibilities in the future. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>God</span>
  </em>
  <span>, you were hoping he couldn’t see the way your fork begins to shake in your hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And then the other ones that might not apply to this but I’ll mention them, just in case..”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Just in case.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This isn’t exclusive, no sleeping over, and always use protection.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Just in case.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>You have to break eye contact and you almost choke on your noodles. He mentions protection because </span>
  <em>
    <span>‘just in case’</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But we’ll burn that bridge if we get to it.” He speaks so nonchalantly that, that itself, has you taken aback.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You give him another nod, it was absentminded but it was genuine. You catch yourself wondering if you would ever get the point where the </span>
  <em>
    <span>‘just in case’</span>
  </em>
  <span> would be found useful. The thought itself has your chest tightening and your face growing hot. Being the only one Eren’s with, sleeping over at his house… in his bed… with him, feeling him inside you; it feels so wrong but so right.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And remembering that this isn’t a relationship, not a real one at least, makes you somewhat sad. You knew that that’s a horrible thing to think. You were in another relationship-not-a-relationship ordeal, you had no right thinking about what it would be like to get with Eren… but not even just get with him but </span>
  <em>
    <span>be</span>
  </em>
  <span> with him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Could you really blame yourself? Eren’s so incredibly understanding, stupidly attractive, and has brought you more pleasure in the past week than you have ever experienced in your entire life. Of course, you’d harbor some feelings for him over time, how couldn’t you?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But you guess that’s the entire point of his rules. They’re to make sure nothing like that happens. And the fact that you’ve already found yourself conflicted about your feelings for him shows that rules should have come up in conversation a bit sooner.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll keep helping you as long as you need it,” He says, and the sweet smile he gives you makes your heart flutter.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The both of you finish eating in rather comfortable silence. The much-needed boundaries had been set and are now out of the way, the awkward tension dissipating. But, every once and a while you’ll remember that a few hours ago, Eren was between your thighs, and it will have your entire body running hot once more. But other than that, you were relaxed in each other’s company. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>While you helped him with cleaning the dirtied dishes, your thoughts float back into that headspace that so craves his time and validation. You were at peace with him in this strangely domestic moment, and he with you. And you can’t help but wonder, ‘what if it could always be like this?’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Stop thinking about it.” He says, nudging the dripping wet bowl he just cleaned against your forearm.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You and he both had your sleeves rolled up to your elbows. His hands were wrist-deep in soapy, hot water, while yours were holding a large, thin, white towel with green embroidery on it. It read ‘Monday’ on it, with fancy lettering and an arrangement of flowers surrounding the word. It was a Saturday.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His comment has you laughing uncomfortably. Was he really that well at reading people, or were you just an easy person to read?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You look down to the plate and take it from his hands, “I wasn’t thinking about… earlier —” You stutter.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sure you weren’t,” He says, “Don’t worry, I was too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>My god, will he ever make a comment that doesn't send electricity coursing through your entire body?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You let out an audible choke, “D — don't say things like that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You stare down at your hands as you wipe at the ceramic bowl. You were surely overdrying it, the fabric now running over the surface smoothly. Your fingertips begin to prune from the warm water.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why not?” Out of the corner of your eyes, you can see him glance down at you. He’s got a stupid, boyish smirk on his face that tells you that he knows exactly what he’s doing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I — I just —” You start, setting the bowl aside and resting your forearms on the edge of the sink.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You can admit it was good, you know.” He laughs, “I mean, you </span>
  <em>
    <span>seemed</span>
  </em>
  <span> to be liking it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Probably because you </span>
  <em>
    <span>did</span>
  </em>
  <span> like it, of course you did, But you weren't the only one. Eren couldn’t get the image of you out of his head: your pretty face all scrunched in pleasure, legs trembling around his head, sucking in his fingers real nice… you were burned into his eyelids. He was going to have masturbation material for </span>
  <em>
    <span>weeks</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course I did — </span>
  <em>
    <span>Jesus</span>
  </em>
  <span> — but we don't need to talk about it after.” You mumble, tucking your hair behind your ear before grabbing the second bowl from him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh but, we </span>
  <em>
    <span>do</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” He teases, nudging his elbow against your bicep, “C’mon, what was your favorite part?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You blink a few times, opening and closing your mouth like a fish as you flit your vision between him and your hands, “Eren —”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Was it… when I... </span>
  <em>
    <span>fucked you with my tongue?</span>
  </em>
  <span> That pulled a nice reaction from you. ‘Could tell you were listening to my ‘non-verbal communication’ lesson.” He continues.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You shy away from him, tilting your head towards but pulling away from him as you squeeze your eyes shut. His resurrection of the incident alone has your stomach turning.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What about when I filled you with my fingers, hm?” He laughs cruelly at your reaction, bringing his head down and level with yours, leading with his nose to speak besides your ear.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The still slick bowl slips out of your fingers and clatters down into the sink, your hands falling forward to brace yourself against the counter, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>No</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>No</span>
  </em>
  <span>?” His questioning is exaggerated.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You breathe in through your nose slowly, shutting your eyes and trying to regulate your body. You bite at the inside of your cheek and turn your face away to prevent him from seeing the embarrassed distortion of your face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“When you kissed my calf… I — I liked that… the best.” You whisper. Your expression slips and your lips turn into a little smile of recollection.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Interesting,” He brings himself back upright, almost standing proud, “I’ll keep that in mind.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You scoff, shaking your head as you reach for the dropped bowl, “Like how you did with my comment about teasing, hm?” Your comment is quick, and you keep your head down as you speak.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Absolutely,” He passes you the saucepan just as you finish drying the bowl, “Only the best for you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You laugh breathily at that, your cheeks growing even warmer than before. You could almost feel your heart flutter and flap around in your chest. Although he said it teasingly, you could hear the sincerity lurking low in his voice. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hearing his audible confirmation that this is about you, and not him taking advantage of your vulnerability, was massively comforting. He was doing this for you; he was up in the middle of the night for you, made two servings of spaghetti for </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span>. He was helping you for you and not for his own personal gain.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Were you ever going to be able to do something for him?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Eren, you don’t have to be doing this if you don’t want to.” You mumble, setting the final pan aside to rest with the other clean dishes on the countertop. You wipe at your hands with the slightly damp rag.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You can hear him inhale as he wipes his hands on his sweatpants, he shakes them out a few times before turning and leaning back against the counter beside the sink. You can feel his eyes on you as you stare at the drain in the sink.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Who said I didn’t want to?” He asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You swallow, pressing your lips into a line before looking at him, “Why would you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eren smiles, bringing his eyes down to the floor in front of him with his tongue in his cheek and his arms crossed over his chest. Even though he wasn’t looking at you, all of his attention was directed towards you.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You were my first friend,” His voice is quiet, “Can’t just leave you to die.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You laugh, bringing yourself upright and tucking your hair behind your ears as you gain the courage to bring your head up and smile at him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You wish you didn’t.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Because he’s got that look again, that stance, that glint in his eyes that makes you absolutely melt and turns your brain stupid. He was drinking you in and undressing you with his eyes again, and although you haven’t experienced it, you could swear he was wanting to bend you over this counter and take you right then.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And he was. </span>
  <em>
    <span>God</span>
  </em>
  <span>, if Eren had met you any other way; if you weren’t his childhood best friend, if you weren’t in such a vulnerable position; if he’d met you in class or something or at a party and your entire friendship wasn’t on the line, he would have you every </span>
  <em>
    <span>fucking</span>
  </em>
  <span> day of the week.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He hates admitting it, but he can’t lie to himself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s already found himself lingering his glances over the curves in your face and body, savoring the way your lips quirk into a smile, drinking in your figure, and getting drunk on it. Your physicality was already turning him soft, and if he wasn’t careful, so would your brain.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you. Not for the… the sexual part of it… but for everything else too.” You try not to shy away again, “I mean, I guess the… the sexual part is —”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is nice too?” He adds.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“ — Is nice too.” You nod with a laugh.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eren brings a hand to give the top of your head a pat, “It only gets better from here.”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. The Lion and The Gazelle</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>A characterization on Owen, followed by Reader putting new lessons to use and a newfound curiosity .</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Content Warnings: Mentions of Sexual Assault</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Owen was twelve years old when he received his first school suspension. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was a seventh-grade boy at lunch table packed with a dozen other seventh-grade boys who were chewing with their mouths open as they scribbled at homework sheets that are due the next period. They were all shoulder-to-shoulder, hip-to-hip, elbows knocking together as they reached around textbooks to grab their half-eaten chicken patty sandwich and take another bite.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Owen wasn’t a rowdy kid, but he did have his moments. He wasn’t one to disrupt a lecture or harass substitute teachers. But he </span>
  <em>
    <span>was</span>
  </em>
  <span> one to pop chip bags a little too loud or throw the occasional mechanical pencil across the classroom to a friend.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Those little incidents of ‘boys-being-boys’ never got him into much trouble; yes, the occasional sterning from his teacher, but nothing serious.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His friend, Wendall, was the instigator. He had met him the first day of sixth grade in his homeroom science class. Wendall was on the shorter side, even in a lack of comparison to Owen’s consistent height advantage over the other kids. He had this fiery-red hair and a copious amount of freckles spattering over his skin. He was a nuisance to the staff, wracking up a long list of behavioral issues. And yes, Owen wasn’t the best student, but how on Earth has he got himself caught up with a boy like Wendall?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was a Thursday. Owen sat across from Wendall at their lunch table, surrounded by a handful of other kids who have fallen as minions to his antics. It smelled like dried sweat and room-temperature ham, and if Owen wasn’t distracted by the mayhem at the table he would have wrinkled his nose in disgust.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Owen — Owen, show this to Tyson!” Wendall cackles from across the table, reaching his arm over the table’s self-made buffet to hand Owen his phone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With a chicken nugget occupying his left hand, he reaches for the device mid-bite, not bothering to look at the source of Wendall’s hysterics before tilting the phone to his side towards the boy beside him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Unbeknownst to Owen, splayed across the screen was a lewd image of a girl a few grades above them. She played water polo for the varsity high school team and is the vice president of their water sports club. It was obvious that the picture wasn’t taken consensually, she seemed to be in the showers of their school gymnasium. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Owen’s wrist was limp after holding the phone for some time, not bothering to check to see if Tyson had taken a peek at whatever was displayed on it. But just before Owen was about to retract his arm and return the phone to Wendall, a stern voice coming from just behind him speaks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mr. Price and Mr. Hill. Dean’s office, now.” The voice said, enunciating the ‘now’ portion of their command</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Owen whipped his head around quickly, all the color in his face draining as his eyes met those of one of the lunch ladies. Her face was twisted in disgust, brows furrowed in aggravation as she looked down upon the two boys. Then, he turns back to his phone to be greeted by the indecent picture.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No wait — this isn't — this isn't my phone,” Owen stammered, placing his hands in front of him in surrender as the lunch lady grabbed a hold of his bicep.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He and Tyson were guided to the front office, desperately trying to explain, ‘we didn't know what was on the screen’ and ‘this isn't our phone’. But their sputtering brought no avail.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Owen could feel his palms grow sweaty and his stomach churning around in a way that made him painfully nauseous. He wasn't one to get in trouble, he’s never gotten into serious trouble before. He screws around with his friends but nothing serious. But this was serious.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The entire time Owen was sitting in that plastic little chair outside the dean’s office he felt like he was going to be sick. He could feel the sweat dripping down the inside of his upper arms, could feel his hands shaking as he gripped onto the armrests as he waited.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was praying that Tyson chose to tell the truth; that Owen didn’t know what he was getting himself into. He couldn't have any serious marks on his record, both school, and criminal. He wasn’t that type of person. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The school let Owen’s parents come in before they decided to sit him down. Which didn't make Owen feel any better and only further articulated the weight of the situation. And it didn't help the relationship between the two, only adding more pressure on top of the already tense marriage.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Owen will forever think that their divorce was his fault, he will forever convince himself that his stupidity and distraction will be the cause and the final stepping stone to their split. He’ll never be able to convince himself otherwise, even after all the time that has passed since then.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Owen was given a week-long, in-school suspension purely by association. Wendall got two and a mark on his criminal record for spreading underage pornography. And Owen fucking hated him for it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Owen never hung out with the right crowds, never really did the morally correct thing… but at least he always knew his rights from his wrongs. On occasions, he just would choose to not listen.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His parents always told him, </span>
  <em>
    <span>‘Owen, you’re just a good kid who makes bad decisions’</span>
  </em>
  <span> as it would somehow make him feel less guilty about his behavior. But it only made him more so, because he knew they were right. Owen was a good kid — </span>
  <em>
    <span>is</span>
  </em>
  <span> a good kid — but like all people, maybe him more than others, he gets caught up in impulsivity and selfishness. And in the moment, he doesn’t regret it, and that’s the part that gives him the most guilt, that in the moment he enjoys what he’s doing. He enjoys the rush of adrenaline and excitement he gets, he enjoys the way his friends’ faces twist into expressions of surprise and animation. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He gets so drunk on it that sometimes it’s hard for him to stop. And then afterward, when he realizes he’s hurt someone in the process, he crumbles. He promises himself that he’ll never let himself get carried away again, that it won’t happen. But then, just like before, he’ll get caught up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was the same way when he was with you. Owen had lost himself in you, he had gotten himself drunk on your taste and your touch. He was pathetically controlled by his desire and needed more, more, more.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Just a taste.</span>
  </em>
  <span> He had his hands running over your skin.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Just one.</span>
  </em>
  <span> And then he’s pulling at the fabric that keeps him from what he wants… what he needs.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>She’ll like it.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Although it will never amount to the fear that he knew was flowing through your body at that moment, he was also afraid of himself. It makes him nauseous every time he looks back on it, it makes him nauseous because if you hadn’t have gotten stern with him he wouldn’t have stopped. And he’s disgusted at himself for it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And he had no one to blame but himself for the flicker of panic that surged through your eyes. He was bigger than you, stronger than you; countless years of hockey have allowed his body to be able to take even the hardest hits. You had every right to be terrified. Compared to him, you were small.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Owen saw you jerk away from him with fear in your eyes, he could almost feel his heart drop into his stomach at the realization. But the saddest part to him was that his guilt didn’t outweigh his desire.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He still wanted to reach forward and grab ahold of your legs, prying them open and revealing you to him so he could have what he truly wanted. His whole being was flooded with selfishness. He still wanted to ravish you, even after you had explicitly told him not to. He wasn’t turned off… if anything, he was more turned on.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He could feel his heart pounding as he watched you pull your leggings back up your legs, watching your fingers tremble and your eyes flit from your hands back to him like you’re watching to make sure he doesn’t make any sudden moves. You were like a gazelle being stalked by a lion, staring at him with wide eyes to make sure he doesn’t pounce. Owen was a predator, still starving for its prey even after it’s escaped his jaws.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And the whole night afterward, as you still sat beside him with your guard up, he still wanted to reach over and have you. He knew he could’ve done it too, and there were many times where his restraint began to slip and he was on that dangerous edge of sitting still and leaning over and taking you.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It took Owen a moment, only after you left, to realize how disgustingly primal he felt in those moments. It hit him as grabbing his phone from the coffee table. And he had to stand there, half bent over the table with his eyes wide, realizing what he’s done.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And he didn’t want to think about it, but he couldn’t help it. He couldn’t close his eyes without seeing that mortified look on your face. He was making himself sick. He was just laying in his bed, facing the ceiling; trying so hard </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> to think about it that he only ended up doing so.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He realized was reduced to his instincts, comparable to an animal… and it made him nauseous. His brain had been running on pure, unadulterated hunger, and he was willing to do whatever it took to get his meal. He had been acting like he’d been starving for you for his entire life, waiting for that one moment and acting as he’d never be able to get it again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He felt horrible.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And embarrassed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Owen knew he should have apologized, but he just couldn’t bring himself to do so. He wanted to pretend it never happened, he wanted to act like it never happened, he was </span>
  <em>
    <span>going</span>
  </em>
  <span> to act like it never happened because he hated the constant reminder that, ‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>you’re not a bad person, Owen, you’re just not a good one’. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>So he didn’t apologize, he didn’t even say anything to you until the next time you had messaged him.</span>
</p><p>
  <b>
    <em>‘i’m free on friday’</em>
  </b>
  <span> You had said, just a few days before the suggested date. Friday would be just around a week and a half after he’d seen you last.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As much as your initial text had startled him, he found a little bit of comfort in it as well. You didn’t hate him, and you weren’t upset with him enough to refuse communication. And the communication you had sent him had assured him that you also weren’t scared of him, at least enough to the point where you were okay with seeing him in a private setting again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Owen couldn’t help but break out into a sweat while thinking about how to respond.</span>
</p><p>
  <b>
    <em>‘my place or yours?’</em>
  </b>
  <span> Is what he decided on.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He sits up as he waits for a response, leg bouncing against the floor as he keeps turning his phone on and off like it’ll somehow bring an answer from you faster.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You had suggested going to your house over his, claiming that it was just to switch it up a little. But Owen was convinced that you would want to be in a comfortable environment if things go south again, which was understandable. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>So, he agreed to your suggestion and met you at your house on that Friday. His nerves were shot the whole drive and he had to tell himself over and over to not get carried away again. He told himself that as dominant as a person he was, he had to let you control everything that happens, he has to wait for your okay before doing something he wants. He will only take from you what you give to him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He could feel his heart pounding out of his chest as he rang your doorbell, and then again when he saw the silver handle twist in its socket before you pull it open. You greet him with a gentle smile, hand still resting on the handle as you stand in the doorway.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey,” You spoke first, parting from the door frame to give him enough room to squeeze past you and into the foyer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Your heart already begins to beat a little faster when you see him standing outside. His tall figure looms over you even though you remain a step above him, and that distance only increases once he steps up into your house.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hi... how are you?” He asks, making his way farther inside then pressing the balls of his feet into the heel of one shoe to slide it off then he repeats with the other.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He can feel the tension grow more awkward by the second; both of you trying to avoid the elephant in the room as you welcome him inside. He can see the way you toy with the hem of your sweatshirt after you shut the door, picking at the stray threads and pulling them loose.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m alright. You?” You ask, backing up enough to watch him as he files his shoes neatly aside.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good, ‘drive here was a little windy, but nothing too bad.” He steadies himself as he stands upright and looks to you with a smile.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s careful and cautious as he follows you up to your room, unconsciously tip-toeing up the steps and gently pushing your door closed; not too much, leaving a crack. He felt like he was in middle school again, on his first date or something, as he watches you plop down onto your bed, grabbing ahold of a remote on your nightstand to switch on the television.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Owen quietly sits himself on the edge of your bed, still wary with his distancing, pulling his legs up and crossing them underneath each other with his hands folded in his lap. You could almost laugh at how he’s sitting; such a big guy seated like a little kid at circle time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You allow yourself to scoot a little closer to him, just enough so your thighs are touching, and the little brush of contact sends sparks of electricity through both of you at the contact point. Then, you bring yourself backward until your back hits your headboard, your ankles rest beside his knees.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You wouldn’t say that you aren’t afraid this time, you’re still very much nervous about going farther with him. But now that you have a handful of experience under your belt, you’re quite less shaky than you would be if you didn’t. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>If Owen wanted to do what he tried last time, you would let him do it. You wish there was a way to let him know it was okay, and that you’re not upset with him… not anymore at least. You wanted it this time, and he needed to know that you did.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As simple as Eren made it sound, communication will forever be the hardest part of a relationship. It wasn’t only figuring out </span>
  <em>
    <span>what</span>
  </em>
  <span> to say, but knowing when and how to say it. You never knew the answer to any of those questions, while everyone else always seemed to know at least one. Eren always knew all of them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You wish, in moments like these, that he could be here to guide you. You still hear his voice echoing in the back of your head, bouncing around against your skull, smooth and comforting. But those were things he’s said in the past. Situations change, and Eren’s past answers won’t always fit your current problems. So, you wish you had him here with you, speaking in real-time and telling you, step-by-step, what to do.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But he’s not. Eren’s at home, probably doing to a girl the exact same thing he did to you not even a week ago. And something about that rather obvious fact makes a lump form in your throat, but you swallow it down just as fast as it formed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So, you go with the next, questionably best thing. You characterize Eren in your head and try to come up with what you think he would say based on it.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>‘Initiate physical contact or something. Let him know it’s okay to touch you’</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>You listen to the little Eren that you came up within your head and reach out for Owen’s shoulder, brushing your fingers against his charcoal tee-shirt. He looks down to the right at your hand before turning a little farther to look at you.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“C’mere,” You remove your hand to pat your left thigh at its apex. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Owen looks down to where you’ve gestured, then back to your face before he scoots back a little bit. He maneuvers himself onto his right side, laying down on your bed, then shifting his face until his right cheek rests gently on the plush part of your leg.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Owen was careful with his action, hesitantly resting his face, not releasing all his weight onto your thigh just as a precaution. He didn’t exactly know why, he figured that if you didn’t want him touching you that you wouldn’t have gestured him closer in the first place. But it was better safe than sorry.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You bring your hand down to his hair as he watches whatever show flickers across the television screen, distracting yourself from the warmth radiating off his face and over your bare leg. You just laid with him like that, stroking his head softly, pushing his inky hair out of his eyes, and tucking it behind his ear.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When he was like this, all curled up into your side, arms tucked into his chest and face nuzzling into your leg, he looks quite sweet. His face has finally relaxed, lips slightly parted and eyelids heavy as he watches the screen. With every brush of your fingers over his hair or face, you can feel him sink further into the sheets, further into your skin. Every so often he shivers slightly at the ticklish sensation, then wiggles around in his seat to nestle a little closer. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>You can tell that his shifting is only implying that he wants closer, and eventually, you let him bring his head to rest nicely in your lap. His cheek is now fully flat against an area that is covered by your shorts, no longer against your bare skin. But his face is hot and you can feel the heat seeping through the fabric of your shorts. His breath fans over the beginning of the exposed skin of your thighs, and goosebumps rise in his field of vision. Every so often, when he laughs at something on the screen, you can feel the corner of his mouth upturn against your exposed skin. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>You don’t even pay attention to the show, only assuming that it’s some sitcom by the way he laughs in exhales in sync with the laugh track playing in the background. You can only focus on the way your body heats up at the proximity.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Owen pretends to be watching the screen, but his mind is elsewhere. He can see the people moving around in their little pixels, but he can’t see them. He’s lost in the way his face squishes into your thighs and the way he can feel the rising and falling of your stomach with every breath you take.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s careful as he tilts his head down to press a gentle kiss on the inside of your right thigh, his own body tensing up as he feels your muscles tense up. And he’s quickly afraid that he’s overdone it once again. But then you relax and your leg turns soft and his face meets the warm squish of your thighs again. Owen does that a few more times, just little pecks, and every time he does so, you can feel your lower stomach twitch in nervous arousal. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It felt more intimate than the last time. Before, it was rushed, and selfish greed-fueled Owen, but now he’s slow and calculated with every drag of his lips against your skin. He’s gentle as he sits up and pulls your ankles to bring your head down from the headboard and against your pillow, gentle when he kisses your lips and then your neck.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He looks up to you this time, pausing for a good moment and waiting for verbalization as he hooks his fingers under the waistband of your cotton shorts. And this time, with your bottom lip between your teeth, your hands join his in pushing the fabric down over your hips.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His eyes meet yours as he cups under your knees and pulls them apart, squeezing both of your calves before bringing himself forward to kiss your left thigh. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His lips were soft and warm, but they were foreign. They weren’t Eren’s. And as he continued kissing up the inside of your leg, nipping at the tender flesh, you felt the anxiety growing in your stomach. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But you wanted it this time, the fear wasn’t negative. It was like when adults tell you that anxiety and excitement release the same chemicals in your brain, it’s all just how you tell yourself to receive them. So, you tell yourself that it’s excitement, and it works.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You can feel a warmth spreading throughout your whole stomach, and your chest gets all tight, body jittery, as he presses a kiss to your clit through your beige panties. He can see your stomach flex as he does so, but you don’t seem unsure, so Owen continues.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You welcome his warm tongue dragging up your clothed slit with a soft moan, hands sliding down your stomach and to the tops of your thighs to grab ahold of them tightly. You can feel one of his fingers take hold of the inner crease of your panties, lifting it and shifting it to the right side to you’re fully exposed to him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His hazel eyes flit up to you for a second, only to meet with your eyes shut and head resting back on your pillow. You don’t sit up when he stops, only reaching a hand down to his wrist and squeezing, encouraging him to continue. And he listens to your nonverbal request, tongue poking out and sliding up your cunt; collecting your tart arousal and swallowing it down.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You weren’t as shocked this time at the sensation of something so smooth and warm sliding through the most intimate parts of you. You had one other time that had you prepared for the amount of hot pleasure that it would bring you.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His tongue took broader strokes, soft and pliable and moving with the curves of your body as it slides over the sensitive skin. He wasn’t as sure as Eren was, wasn’t as confident with his actions. But as his tongue continued to move about your center, you still felt that white-hot pleasure swarming around in your stomach.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You could tell he had at least a little bit of experience up his sleeve, his fingers were proficient as they pushed the thin fabric farther aside to make room for his middle finger that now presses against your clit. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His little licks at your cunt have you whining softly, back arching into his mouth and fingers sliding into his dark hair. It wasn’t too much, it wasn’t too overwhelming it was just enough to have arousal pooling down south and your body buzzing gently. You knew you wouldn’t be able to cum like this, but it felt so nice and so warm that you never wanted it to end.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That — that feels nice,” You let out a breathy laugh, lips turning into a smile as he continues to slide his tongue through you real tenderly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He didn’t seem to be doing it with a purpose like his goal wasn’t to bring you up to the edge. And you realize that maybe he doesn’t know that he can up the intensity.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“More, please,” You say softly, tightening your grip on his hair just enough so he gets a little shock of pain rippling through his scalp.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Owen looks to you with his eyes full of what seems to be wonder, his mouth still on you, but his gentle hand shifts away from your clit to slide inside you. It was a little too quick, a little too harsh for your liking, and it had you internally wincing. But once he was resting steady inside, unmoving and letting his digit settle against your walls, you relax and let yourself take in the fullness his finger brings.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Once you let out a satisfied exhale, Owen brings his tongue down to where your little cunt stretches around his finger and wettens it up real nice as he brings the finger back out of you. You’re thankful that he had the liberty to let his saliva drip down your slit because the stretch of his one thick finger has you mewling. And you knew if he hadn’t, it would’ve hurt again when he pushed it back inside.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After he continues pumping that one long finger in and out of you for a few moments, it finally starts to feel good. He’s lapping at your clit with a little more energy than before, suckling on it real soft so he can hear more of those sweet cries slipping past your lips.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Owen —” You whimper, legs bending at the knee as you shift around beneath his grasp.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His right arm, strong and thick, comes over your waist to hold your hips against the bed as he slips in his ring finger alongside his middle one. And the stretch didn’t hurt this time, it was good, so so good. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah — </span>
  <em>
    <span>oh God</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” You whisper, hands coming off of his head and to your sheets, gripping at them in your fist so hard that it hurts your knuckles.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Owen’s drunk on your taste again, lost in your touch; but this time it’s alright because you’re the same. You were okay with losing yourself in him this time. You let him ravish you, drink you up and swallow you down, you let his lips and tongue feast at your skin, fingers pressing against you, inside of you. You allowed him to bring you up to the edge and push you over, his name leaving your lips in a whisper as you clench around his thick fingers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He could see your legs trembling on either side of his head, thighs twitching and contracting, chest heaving as you reach your release. You come down slowly, sucking in air through your nose with your jaw clenched tightly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You don’t even feel Owen slip his fingers out of you, you only realize that they’re gone once his large hands are smoothing over your thighs to help you down, dragging your slick across your skin. And you can taste yourself on his tongue as he brings himself up and kisses you softly, using his left hand to readjust your panties so you’re fully covered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The way he crawls up next to you, leaning on his elbow and cupping your face in his left hand, kissing you tenderly, makes your heart swell so nicely.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And Owen finds himself at peace again. He got carried away this time, but only because you had let him, and only because he had let himself. He knew that this singular event wouldn’t make up for the fear he caused to surge through your heart, nothing truly would make it up to you, but for now, he’ll pretend that it did. He’ll pretend that a week ago never happened and he’ll hope you do the same. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Because now that this has happened, he doesn’t feel the need to apologize. He’s content with where the two of you are, he’s content with sexual interaction as a healing mechanism. He doesn’t even care if you weren’t okay with it as such, because he’s too relieved to think of anything else.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But to be honest, you really didn’t want anything else from him. An apology would be awkward, talking about it would be worse, so pretending that it never happened was sounding like the most desirable option. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Communication was, and never will be, your strong suit.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You were satisfied with the little ‘fuck-then-leave’ situation that occurred that night, anything else would have felt just a little too uncomfortable and a little too forced. You knew you wouldn’t be able to talk it out, so why not forgive in a way that doesn’t require talking.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Owen didn’t push you anymore that night. He seemed to be satisfied with giving over receiving, which reminds you of what Eren said. Something along the lines of ‘Owen not seeming like the guy to go down on someone’, which made it seem like the act itself was a rather foreign act for guys to be doing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>So, even if last time didn’t go as expected, he had the right intentions…. </span>
  <em>
    <span>right?</span>
  </em>
  <span> He seemed to be a giver, not a receiver.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But that also has you thinking… what if he was different? And how would you even approach a situation where </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> would be the giver?</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Third Base: Part Two</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Reader shows up at Eren's with a newfound curiosity and asks him to teach her something new.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Content Warnings: Heavy Corruption Kink, Light Throat Fucking, Dacryphilia, Dom/ Sub Themes</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Eren was in a slump.</p><p>His head was full and foggy, and all his days were beginning to feel far too long but far too short. He couldn’t pick apart one from the next, he couldn’t remember getting any moments of rest or relief, and every second he spent by himself felt like a heavy blink of an eye. He couldn’t catch a breath, not even one, that allowed him to suck in enough oxygen to be able to hold the next exhale a little longer. </p><p>But, in the truth of it, he wouldn’t be able to bear that kind of time alone. His head was swarming and his thoughts were running astray. He couldn’t manage to get his brain on a leash to keep it on track, on the little sidewalk he wants to keep it on. It just wanders away, and he’s stuck with these flashes of things he doesn’t — <em> shouldn’t </em> — be thinking about.</p><p>He’ll shake his head around, hair fluttering around his face and eyes squeezed shut like it’ll send all his stray thoughts out of his brain and into space. And it works, if he retracts himself onto a more productive task in enough time, that is. But if he doesn’t steer himself back in the line he wants, his brain will float off again.</p><p>He noticed and eventually realized that this <em> funk </em> that he was in started only a few weeks ago. Even though the days have blended together and it feels like he’s been stuck in place forever, he knows that it was only a few weeks ago. Because he can pinpoint the exact moment when and where his brain got thrown off track.</p><p>He noticed that his brain was off on a Tuesday. With his phone open in front of him and his thumb scrolling through contacts of girls — <em> anyone </em> — that he could message to help him take care of his problem, he realizes that none of them are what he wants anymore.</p><p>They just weren’t what he needed, and he couldn’t exactly identify why. He just knew that as he was scrolling and scrolling, nothing caught his eye. He had this moment, this out-of-body experience, where he was disgusted with himself. And he knew that they just <em> weren’t </em> going to do it for him this time, and so for once, he had to do it himself.</p><p>But <em> ‘this time’, </em> and <em> ‘that time’, </em> turned into <em> ‘those times’ </em>, and he couldn’t count on his fingers the number of times where he scrolled through that stupid list of names or the fourth page of that tab in that incognito browser and none of the pretty faces caught his eye.</p><p>And when he was taking her on the counter that same day, with her silky blonde hair fisted in his hand to crane her neck back and her little legs wrapped around his waist, he realized that although he was balls deep inside of her, she wasn’t doing it for him either.</p><p>But on Wednesday, he realized why… and he figured out the origin.</p><p>That stupid fucking Sunday where you showed up to his house in the middle of the afternoon, throwing all this fucking weight onto him and expecting him to be able to remain composed.</p><p>He absolutely hated you for it. He hated that you were coming over every week, begging for him to corrupt you just a little more each time. Begging for his touch, his taste, him, all the while the intensions being for someone else.</p><p>He hated how your little whimpers and whines and your pleads and begs all flood back into his foggy head late at night. They mix and merge with anything and everything else that he tries to think of to distract himself, like dark ink blurring and clouding water.</p><p>He lies awake in the dead of night, eyes still wide open and his room appears grey over black due to how long he’s been staring into the dark. His pupils are fully adjusted and he can see his fan swirling in the center of his ceiling quite clearly.</p><p>But blurry in his vision, like a hallucination with the opacity turned low, you interrupt his lazy following of the wings of the fan. You’re atop him, twitching and shifting around over his hips, fiddling with your fingers and wondering where to put your hands.</p><p>He can see your bottom lip taken between your teeth, brows slightly furrowed in anticipation. And his hands are on your thighs, squeezing, feeling, memorizing; trying his best to figure out what he thinks they’d be like in person. His hands hover above his hips like you were truly there.</p><p>Then you’re naked, both of you, and your pretty tits are on display for him, covered in what he hopes to be his saliva. Your little cunt is grinding against the length of his cock, and he’s not yet inside you, but he can feel how warm and wet you are. Your hands are pressing into his chest, nails digging into the muscle, shaky and unsteady as you look down at him with your lips parted and soft moans leaving them.</p><p>It’s so wrong of him. It’s so wrong for him to be shoving his hand down his boxers, pausing before his fingers brush over the length of his cock, then shakily grabbing ahold of himself. He literally twitches in his hand, muscles in his stomach flexing.</p><p>He cringes at himself for taking advantage of your vulnerability. You’ve handed yourself over to him, placed your confidence on the same line as his criticism. You’re confiding in him, trusting that he doesn’t use your innocence and naivety against you to manipulate you into something you might not truly want.</p><p>But fuck. He was doing just that.</p><p>He knew <em> damn </em> well you probably didn’t want his head to be flooded with the thoughts of you while he was getting himself off.</p><p>He was using what you’ve given him — your voice, your touch, your taste, your smell — he was using it all to create and form this image of you before him. An image that had your hands around his cock, with the head of him pressing against your entrance as you hover just above him.</p><p>And he begins to jerk the length of himself slowly, steadily. His precum is sliding across his palm, slickening his hand and his cock as he continues sliding over himself, and <em> God </em>, he’s so fucking hard. He can feel the veins on the underside of him pressing into the sensitive skin and for a moment he swears he can feel his own heartbeat in his dick. The head of his needy cock is leaking and blushing a desperate shade of red, so damn sensitive and so damn deprived.</p><p>He can see your legs shaking, your arm shaking as you place it down to his chest to steady yourself above his toned stomach. You’re looking into his eyes, for he told you to not take them off him, and your lips are parted as you release little gasps and pants.</p><p>Eren squeezes the tip of his cock, and his breath gets caught in his throat as he sees your hallucination begin to sink down. You let out a tiny squeak, your brows furrowing together tightly.</p><p>And fuck, <em> fuck, fuck </em> , he hopes he can manipulate his hand into squeezing his cock the same way your little cunt would. He knows it’ll never come close, but <em> my goodness </em> , he can try to pretend. He <em> needs </em> to be able to pretend.</p><p>You’d whine and hiccup, fat tears swelling at your lash line as you continue down the length of him. You’re telling him, <em> ‘it’s so big’ </em> and <em> ‘it hurts, Eren’ </em>. And he’ll comfort you, hands sliding over the plush of your thighs to soothe the pain of his cock splitting you open.</p><p>Every little choked up sob you let out, every clench of your walls as you’re filled with a cock for the first time has him groaning out and hissing to the apparition before him.</p><p>He wants it. He wants himself to be your first. He wants to be the one to make you squirm, wants to be the first one to fuck himself inside your tight virgin cunt. He wants to be the first one you adjust to, the first one who fucks your brains out and makes you cum around his cock.</p><p>Maybe he <em> will </em> be the one, maybe he’ll get to take it. And the idea of being the one to make you feel so good that you won’t be able to take anyone else without thinking of him makes his ego inflate. </p><p>You’d cum all over him, squeezing him so fucking tight and creaming around his cock as he follows right after you. Because the way you’re trying to milk him of his release is too intense. You’d thrash around on top of him, beneath him, in front of him, with your legs spasming and fists clenching the sheets, crying out <em> his </em> name as he takes you over and <em> over </em>.</p><p>Eren can feel his stomach tighten as he blinks away your mirage, and he’s staring back up at the slowly spinning fan as he releases all over himself — thick and hot and whispering your name like the quieter he speaks the more excusable his actions will be.</p><p>***</p><p>The next time Eren gives a single fuck about which face is showing up on his phone is the morning after you and his fan were blended together above him; a week after you’d let his fingers slip inside you and you had begged him to let you take him in your mouth, but he had declined.</p><p>He woke up in a sweat, all events of the night before had slipped out of his mind. And for a moment, after he fully let himself indulge in the you that had formed in his conscious, his head was clear.</p><p>It remained that way for a while, even as he reached over to his nightstand and read over your message. But the guilt was overwhelming. It was sitting deep in his stomach, fizzing and gurgling, its bubbles popping with every letter he types back.</p><p>He’s not going to be able to look you in the eyes. You’ll know. The second you see him you’ll know what he’s done. You’ll see it in the way he looks over your face and your body, you’ll feel it in the way his hands tremble with guilted greed and shameful desire.</p><p>Eren swears you can see it dripping off his messages as he responds to you.</p><p><b> <em>‘can i ask you something?’ </em> </b>You said.</p><p>
  <b> <em>‘course you can’</em> </b>
</p><p>He knows you’re not going to ask about Mikasa or Sasha, not going to ask him to drive you somewhere or for help with school work. You’re going to ask him about the thing he most absolutely dreads but also is one of his deepests desire. </p><p>He hates that you <em> ask </em> to ask. It’s just more moments where he has to feel his nerves twitch with nervous energy as he stares at those winking dots above the keyboard.</p><p><b> <em>‘can you come over?’</em> </b> You ask.</p><p>His chest tightens at your request. It’s not that he wasn’t expecting the two of you to meet up. In fact, that was exactly what he was expecting. But his brows raise into his forehead when you ask <em> him </em> to come to <em> you </em> , to go over to <em> your </em> house instead of allowing him to stay within the comfort of his own home.</p><p>It almost felt like he was losing an aspect of control. He was getting drawn and pulled into you like a fish on a line rather than the other way around. </p><p>
  <em> But he couldn’t let you know that. </em>
</p><p>He’d be damned if he allowed you to know that you had that kind of control over him; the kind that turned him submissive in a fight or rejection and had him doing whatever you wanted at a simple request.</p><p>But he guesses that fate is set in stone because his response to you doesn’t seem very convincing of his defense.</p><p>
  <b> <em>‘yeah, when?’</em> </b>
</p><p>And then he watches those dots, flickering in and out like you were backspacing.</p><p>
  <b> <em>‘today?’</em> </b>
</p><p>
  <em> Fuck. </em>
</p><p>Eren’s abdomen still has a disgusting film of dried, semi-translucent cum that he had failed to properly wipe away from the night before. His forehead and the back of his neck were thick and slimy with sweat, and when he reached over the bed to grab ahold of a shirt to wipe the both away, he only smears a new layer of his half-dry-half-slick release all over his stomach from the shirt he used to wipe it off last night.</p><p>“Damn it,” He crinkles his nose in disgust and tosses the shirt back to the floor as he swings his legs over the side of the bed in aim for a quick shower.</p><p><b> <em>‘time?’</em> </b> He asks, throwing his phone to the mattress while he collects a pair of sweats and a tee-shirt. And when he returns to his phone, he’s greeted by another message.</p><p>
  <b> <em>‘now…’ </em> </b>
</p><p>He could almost hear you there, your voice getting all tiny and shy while your eyes dart around the floor to look for something to focus on. He likes it when you do that. It’s cute... passive.</p><p><b> <em>‘send your address, i’ll be there’</em> </b> He places his phone on the bathroom counter with a heavy sigh then strips down and slips into the shower.</p><p>At home, you do the same. The moment you hear your phone ding in response, you reach for it, flip it over to read his message, then throw it back onto your bed to hurry about your room for clothes.</p><p>Eren lives just far enough away for you to be able to have enough time to fully scrub your body clean of the past day and shave yourself smooth.</p><p>You hope that one day you won’t get so riled up before someone comes over to where you force yourself to be the most put together you can manage to be. You want to be comfortable enough with a person to not string yourself up on this taught rope of presentability; that they’ll admire you to the extent that anything you do will be found desirable.</p><p>It wasn't your fault, of course, it was theirs. Whoever <em> ‘they’ </em> are have managed to make the most natural and raw elements of being human into something that’s seen as less than.</p><p>You were just caught up in their little scheme and you couldn't escape. You were hurriedly shaving your body bare until your skin felt raw under the cool water from the sharpness of the razor and the micro-abrasives in your exfoliator. </p><p>And you knew your hair wasn't going to be dry for the longest time so you pulled the showerhead down its little pole and kept the water cold to prevent it from growing humid and continued washing down your body.</p><p>The things you were doing for these — that (this?) — boy...</p><p>While you were doing a final rinse, when the water was turning colder than before, you had another one of those out-of-body moments that had you wondering what the fuck you were doing. And while you were staring at yourself in the mirror, skin still dewy with water, you half expected your reflection to laugh at you.</p><p>You had just finished throwing on the clothes you had gathered when you heard the doorbell ring, followed by a series of melodic knocks against the front door. You almost jump out of your skin and you swear you could feel your heart stop for a moment.</p><p>You didn’t have time to prepare yourself like Eren had. He had sat in the driver’s seat of his car, parked in your driveway, and staring at his hands that were gripping the steering wheel. He gave himself a minute or two to just think over how he’s going to handle himself subject to what you ask of him.</p><p>He had a few ideas on what you were going to ask of him, but only one stuck out from the others like a sore thumb. There were ones that he hoped for over others: like maybe you’d ask him to finally take it, or you’d ask him about dirty-talk or something. But this one was just… obvious. </p><p>So in his head, while he was sitting in your driveway, he made out this little step-by-step plan for himself.</p><p>You had a plan of your own. You were going to straight-out say what you needed from him and hope he would give it to you, and it would be <em> that </em> easy. But the moment you swing the door open to see him standing there on your front porch… you freeze.</p><p>His bare arms are crossed over his chest, pressing into each other to make the veins in them swell from above his muscle, and his weight is shifted onto one foot as he plays with the pot of the plant beside your door with the toe of his other shoe.</p><p>His eyes flick up to yours and you meet him there, but not without noticing the fresh bruising in the shape of a perfect set of teeth around the collar of his tee-shirt.</p><p>You could physically feel your stomach twist at the sight, and it was no longer anxiety that was being brewed in the depths of your torso. It hurt a little more than that, it stemmed from your heart and sept down through your entire chest before dripping down into your stomach. Your heart was jumping around the same as it would, your breath was caught in your throat the same, but this <em> hurt </em>.</p><p>You wonder if it hurts him the same to see you with Owen.</p><p>Eren can see your vision get caught up just before your eyes reach his jaw, and sadly, he knows exactly what has made you shy away from him.</p><p><em> ‘No marks anymore…’ </em> He told her.</p><p>His heart sinks, not in the same way yours had, not at the same intensity, but it did.</p><p>It takes you a moment to regather your thoughts. The two of you just stare at each other, blinking awkwardly while you do so. Eren gives you the time to process out whatever you need to, but he doesn’t speak. </p><p>He doesn’t lift his voice to tell you that it was an accident, to apologize, because it was made clear to the both of you that whatever <em> this </em> was, wasn’t exclusive. And although it wasn’t stated — he realizes it should have been — that there shouldn’t be emotion behind it either.</p><p>So, if Eren apologizes, you’ll know that he feels guilt for what he’s done. And that guilt insinuates that he feels as if he’s done something he knows he shouldn’t have done, he’s done something that’s somehow scathed the relationship between you two and gone against his true morality.</p><p>You open your mouth a few times before your voice catches up, “I want… to give… Owen... <em> head </em>.”</p><p>And Eren <em> does </em> hurt the same. Every time he hears <em> his </em> name, his heart aches the same as yours when you see him with marks over his tanned skin.</p><p>
  <em> But he couldn’t let you know that. </em>
</p><p>You see him raise his eyebrows, then let out an shocked laugh.</p><p>“Okay?” He tries to smile, tries to throw himself back into that boyish nature that makes you smile as well.</p><p>But it doesn’t land and you’re staring back at the floor with your arm still outstretched to hold the door open, letting a nippy, mid-autumn breeze into your home.</p><p><em> God </em> , Eren wishes he would’ve worn a fucking scarf or something, <em> anything </em> to not have had to see your face literally <em> drain </em> of all its nervous excitement right in front of his face due to some impassive bruises on his neck.</p><p>“Can you — can you <em> teach me </em>?” Your voice is all tiny, small, and submissive. You shift your weight from side to side, keeping your eyes to the floor as you wait for a response.</p><p>Eren realizes that you seem to be looking for something… <em> different </em>. A different approach maybe. Because if you hadn’t been looking for something new, you would have just listened to what he had told you the last time... when his fingers were down your throat.</p><p>“I’m gonna assume a little different from last time, yeah?” </p><p>You’re grateful for the smile you can hear in his voice, thankful that you don’t have to look up to him as he speaks. But you still shake a little inside at the tone he uses. It’s a little too teasing, a little too playful for you to be able to respond with the same amount of fervor. So you settle for a tiny nod with your bottom lip pulled between your teeth.</p><p>Eren thinks it’s sweet. Your insecurity has been wonderfully traded for submission. He’s not glad that you’re now in his hands, he’s glad that the passivity in your eyes has switched from a negative one to positive.</p><p>“Tell me what you need from me.” He says, allowing his voice to drop a little lower, a little smoother. He drops his weight to both feet, planted steady on the welcome mat of the porch with his arms still over his chest, but one comes to rub at the back of his neck coyly.</p><p>It was an attempt to help you to open up, but it acted as the opposite. The low rumbling purr you could hear coming from his chest had you feeling warm, and you swallow down a noise of light arousal.</p><p>You blink a few times as you try to regroup once more. You know your voice is going to waver and tremble as you speak, but you also know that he won’t agree to anything if you don’t <em> communicate </em>.</p><p>“‘want you to teach me with your… with — um” Your voice was shaking, and it was quiet, and you couldn’t bring yourself to speak the rest of the sentence. It was embarrassing to stumble over words, but to you it would be even more so to ask something so lewd.</p><p>“You want me to teach you with my dick, hm?” He speaks so confidently, with his voice steady and true. It makes you shiver.</p><p>But inside himself Eren thought he was going to explode. The way you ask — <em> beg </em> even — to be able to get your mouth on him has his stomach turning in ways he really wishes it wouldn’t… not <em> yet </em> anyways. He’s lost all care towards the fact that this isn’t for him, that it doesn’t mean anything, all he cares for is being able to get closer to you.</p><p>You were shaking like a leaf, waiting for him to turn you down or cuss you out. Maybe he’d laugh in your face at your inexperience or he’d be an asshole and tell you to practice with a <em> cucumber </em> instead of him.</p><p>“Can I come inside then? I don’t wanna do this on your porch…” He speaks lightheartedly.</p><p>“Oh — yeah… yeah,” You mumble, backing up into the foyer and keeping ahold of the door so Eren can slip inside the house.</p><p>After you close the door, you stand there blankly like you were half expecting Eren to be the one to lead you upstairs. But you realize that you have to guide him up when you see him standing there with the same expression that you have.</p><p>You cringe a little before turning and gesturing for him to follow you. You don’t look back to see if he listens, but the series of thumps that follow behind you up the stairs tells you everything you need to know. You can feel him looming heavy on your back, his presence loud and sturdy.</p><p>This will be the first time Eren will be in your room since maybe… <em> seventh grade </em>. And he won’t be sitting on the floor and wrestling around with Armin this time. </p><p>Eren sits on your bed, right beside you as you pull your legs up beneath you. It’s awkward, really awkward, far more awkward than previous times. Something in the air has shifted, and both of you seem to be aware of it. </p><p>You can’t stand the silence much longer and place a hand on his knee. You didn’t know what you were expecting in response, just anything to break the quiet. Eren smiles softly, shifting around a little to look at you.</p><p>“No, <em> ‘hi, how are you?’ </em> , no, <em> ‘how was the drive?’ </em>... just straight into it?” He teases, raising his brows.</p><p>You give him a low groan, pulling your hands off him and covering your face with them, “Shit — I’m sorry, I didn’t —” </p><p>“Hey, I’m kidding. Whatever you want, we’ll do,” He chuckles.</p><p>You exhale and pull your hands off your eyes, but you keep them closed. You know that you’ll get thrown off track again if you make eye contact with him</p><p>“I just — I’m sorry. This shit makes me so nervous. <em> You </em> make me so nervous, he makes me nervous, this all does… and I’m sorry,” You stammer with a little incredulous laugh weaved in, dropping your head to your hands with your elbows resting on your bent knees.</p><p>Eren drops his teasing smile and trades it for a soft one. He can feel his heart swelling up in his chest at your confession, and he’s once again reminded of how vulnerable you’re allowing yourself to be. He outstretches a hand and places it on your knee like you just had with him, a few of his fingers curl around your elbow.</p><p>“Hey, that’s alright. I’m not expecting you <em> not </em> to be nervous. This is a lot, yeah?” He says, giving you a gentle squeeze.</p><p>“Yeah, I just — I don’t want to like… mess up and embarrass myself…” You rest the heels of your palms against your temples.</p><p>“That’s why I’m helping you, so you don’t fuck up with him…” Eren hates mentioning him, he hates saying his name, hates even thinking about him. But this was for you, he needed to help you.</p><p>But what he says doesn’t really help you because now you realize that you’re also far too nervous about messing up with Eren as well. You know <em> that he knows </em> that you don’t know what you’re doing, but some part of you still strives to impress him.</p><p>“Don’t worry about embarrassing yourself in front of me, okay?” His words are true, but not for the reason you’d think. </p><p>He’d never say it, and he hates to even admit it to himself, but whenever you slip up with him and when your actions get sloppy and uncoordinated, he finds his stomach churning in arousal. But he can’t wait for the moment where your unpracticed motions start growing skilled, and you’re making <em> him </em> melt and not the other way around.</p><p>He almost shudders to know that by the end of this ‘lesson’, you’ll have a good idea of what you’re doing, and he’ll have taught you every last way to make him crumble with both your hands and your mouth. Your clumsy and awkward movements will regulate and even out and he won’t have to open his mouth every moment to let you know what to do next.</p><p>Eren straightens right back up once it comes back to him that this isn’t <em> for </em> him. You’re not doing this <em> for </em> him, or <em> to </em> him, you’re doing this for Owen… to impress <em> Owen </em> . You’re using him as a gateway to another guy, and he’s <em> letting </em> you. He can’t be thinking or doing the things he’s thinking and doing because of it.</p><p>“Okay,” You finally say, giving him a little nod once you pull your head up.</p><p>“Okay, before we keep going, we need to go over a few things, alright?” He asks, sliding his hand down your knee to give your thigh a gentle pat, then pulling away.</p><p>“Yeah.”</p><p>Eren pulls one of his legs up onto your bed, bending at the knee, to properly be able to look you in the eyes.</p><p>“Do <em> not </em> hurt yourself, understand me? If something becomes too much, just pull off and we’ll stop.” He’s serious, stern. It shocks you for a moment at how quickly his tone can shift.</p><p>“Okay,” You nod again.</p><p>“I’m gonna be asking you if you’re alright a <em> lot </em>. But you won’t really be able to talk when…  yeah. So you’re gonna tap my thigh, okay? One tap is that you’re good, two means you want to stop, understand?”</p><p>“Yes,” You say.</p><p>“Show me,” Eren nudges your arm with his knuckles.</p><p>You pause for a moment before carefully bringing a hand down to hover between the two of you, and with your pointer finger, you give the apex of his thigh one tap… then two. </p><p>“Good. And… last thing… do — do not swallow,” His voice only begins to waver then, “It won’t be what you’re expecting.”</p><p>You give him a shaky nod, swallowing subconsciously at the mention. You move your hair out of your face before shuffling around and sliding off the bed until you’re on your knees, just to the left of him.</p><p>As much as Eren is struggling to wait, he knows he needs to. It’s not that he’s not already hard, his dick is <em> throbbing </em>, but he wants this to be more than just teaching you… more than just something purely sexual.</p><p>“Hey,” Eren reaches down to grab ahold of your hands, “Let me kiss you first, yeah?” </p><p>Your stomach does a little flip at the kindness in his voice and the sensation of his warm and sturdy hands taking ahold of your own. </p><p>He guides you up to him, holding your hands gently, fingers teasing your wrists as he pulls you into his lap. Your knees rest on either side of his hips, pushing into the mattress and once he releases your hands, you bring them up to steady yourself on his shoulders.</p><p>He takes your face in his palms, cupping your jaw gently and bringing the two of you together. He doesn’t kiss you yet, he only allows your noses to brush together and your breaths to fan over each other lips.</p><p>“Okay?” He murmurs, nudging your nose with his. When he feels you nod in his hands, he brings his lips to yours.</p><p>It’s gentle, just a soft peck at first like he was reminding you of what his lips felt like. They were soft and warm, and you could swear you felt the slightest slide of chapstick. Just the gentlest touch of them against yours had butterflies swarming and fluttering around in your stomach.</p><p>Eren could feel you push against his hands, wanting more from him, wanting him to kiss you again. So he does. He gives you another soft kiss before returning with a little more passion. He can feel your fists ball up into the fabric of his tee-shirt above his shoulders, and he feels the way your thighs squeeze his hips a little tighter once his tongue slips inside your mouth.</p><p>He still kisses you slowly, wanting to savor the feeling of you in his arms before he rushed into feeling your mouth around him. If you were allowing him to have you again he wanted to take his time with it. He couldn’t let himself get carried away or allow you to rush the process. </p><p>You just wanted more from him, once you could taste him on your tongue again, you relapsed. Your addiction to him just flared up right in your face. </p><p>Eren wouldn’t let you take what you wanted from him, because he knew what you <em> needed </em>. He couldn’t let you rush this, because he knew you’d get overwhelmed.</p><p>He let his hands move slowly over your body, caressing the curves of your thighs and hips before sliding them around your waist to encourage you to shift a little closer. And you hear him, you grab onto his shoulders and bring yourself further up his thighs until the most intimate part of you is seated above that of him.</p><p>You shiver atop him, fingers flexing into the muscle of his shoulders as the print of his dick presses into you just right. Eren catches your tiny gasp in his mouth, and he takes advantage of your parted lips to slide his tongue against yours.</p><p>He saves every sound he pulls from you, he memorizes them and files them away into the cursed part of his head where every other fantasy he has of you is stored and locked away. He likes to pretend that it’s not there, that if he hides it far enough back behind other little folders of other girls’ noises that it doesn’t really exist.</p><p>Eren was already hard, he didn’t need your help with that part. You could’ve gone down on him a few minutes ago, you could go down on him now if he would let you, but he won’t. He wants to feel you fall apart a little more before you do the same to him.</p><p>He slides his hands up and down your thighs a few more times, squeezing the fat of them when he reaches the crease of your hips, and then brings them up and over your hips to settle his fingertips on the top of your ass. You can feel goosebumps scatter over your skin at the gentle brushing sensation over the sensitive skin.</p><p>The shivers and quivering of your body only bring you closer, they only cause you to squirm around a bit more in his lap. And that squirming has your clothed cunt grinding and pressing up against his dick in a way that has him fidgeting.</p><p>You were so desperate and so damn needy, and it was driving Eren insane. He wants to give you what you want, he wants to go as far as you want, he wants to do whatever you allow him. But he knows it would be too much too quickly. And he can’t use your vulnerability to his advantage, he just can’t.</p><p>You were panting against his lips now, with your hips jerking and grinding against him. You were giving him such a delicious relief, your warm body rubbing against his in a way that threatens moans to escape his throat. <em> Maybe </em> he could let you take what you need from him… just for a moment.</p><p>And you do. You could feel the length of his cock pressing against your clit so nicely, causing heat to swarm and pool between your thighs, arousal slickening your panties already. You couldn’t stop grinding against him. It felt too good. His body felt too good. His hands felt too good. His lips felt too good.</p><p>His hands take ahold of the fat of your ass, gripping each cheek tightly between his fingers to rock you against him. You could tell that he was guiding you, his hands were pushing and pulling at you to bring you across the length of his dick.</p><p>“Eren —” You have to pull away from him, sliding your hands up his shoulders to brace them around his neck while you rest your forehead against his.</p><p>Eren swallows down a groan, “Yeah?” He doesn’t slow his movements as he speaks, still dragging you over his cock slow and steady.</p><p>“Feels s’good,” You whimper, bringing your hands up farther to cup his upper neck, thumbs resting on his jaw.</p><p>His lips brush up against yours, but neither of you connect them. Both of you seemed to want to hear the little noises that you pulled from each other far too much to silence them with your lips. He can hear your little gasps and can feel them against his lips. You can hear and feel the low rumbling in his chest, the ones he holds back but every so often they’ll escape his throat in the form of a low exhale.</p><p>“Yeah? You like grinding on my cock?” He questions, brushing his nose against yours again. </p><p>You let out a pretty moan in as an unintentional response to his question, and he can feel your hips stutter atop of him and between his hands. It was overwhelming you, but you were loving it, you were losing yourself in him. You were drunk, and Eren was pouring you bottomless glasses of wine.</p><p>He needed to cut you off.</p><p>“Alright — <em> fuck </em> — go ahead or I’m gonna cum in my pants,” He tightens his grip on your waist to prevent you from wiggling around on him any longer. </p><p>You couldn’t tell if he was joking or serious with his words, but to be honest, Eren didn’t know either. He didn’t know how much longer he would have been able to last with you getting off on him like that. </p><p>You bring your hands back down to his chest to distance yourself from him, because if you hadn’t, you’d be afraid that you’d jump on him again. Then, after a few steadying breaths, you slide off his lap and kneel to the floor in front of him. </p><p>He looks so much bigger than you like this. Yes, he was a pretty tall guy and he had a decent amount of muscle to his figure, but when he was sat before you like this, with his legs parted and leaning back onto his hands, his gaze narrowed and lazy, it was too much. You knelt to his feet like a servant to a king.</p><p>You don’t let your hands touch down to the fabric of his sweatpants before they’re hovering above the waistband, and with your fingers shaking you take ahold of the elastic. You don’t move, only sliding your fingers under the band and resting them against the warm skin of his stomach.</p><p>Eren’s heart lurches even with the faintest contact. He felt <em> pathetic </em>.</p><p>You look up with him with slightly furrowed brows and eyes filled with insecurity and admiration, and Eren wishes he could take a picture… an <em> actual </em> picture.</p><p>“Can I?” You ask him quietly, scooting a little closer to him under your forearms can rest on his upper thighs.</p><p>“Yep.” He says, but his facial expression doesn’t change. It’s still hazy with lust.</p><p>Slowly, you pull down his waistband. Eren watches you carefully, losing all care for whatever your hands are doing because he wants to see the look on your face when you see how <em> hard </em> you’ve gotten him. He needs to see your eyes simultaneously fill with fear and arousal. He wants to see you squirm.</p><p>You do exactly as he hoped once he lifts his hips enough for you to slip the waistbands of both his sweats and briefs down to his thighs. His dick slaps up against the stomach of his tee-shirt, the tip hitting an area that’s bunched around his abdominals and dripping precum onto the black fabric, somehow darkening it.</p><p>“Oh <em> fuck </em>” You whisper, and Eren has a good feeling that you hadn’t meant to say that out loud.</p><p>Your chest fills with anxiety, excitement, <em> something, </em> because the size of him is <em> nothing </em> short of intimidating. This may be the first dick you’ve seen in person, but something inside you tells you that not all of them are this big; not all of them struggle to be flexed upright due to the sheer weight, not all of them have these pretty, sheer, purple veins that make them look that much thicker, not all of them prevent your fingers from touching when you wrap the hand around it.</p><p>Eren about has a heart attack at both the sight and sensation of your hand wrapping around the base of him. So much softer, smaller, <em> daintier </em> than his. You were so uncertain, so gentle, like you thought he was going to break. But he couldn’t even complain because he was terrified of a groan tearing through his throat once he opens his mouth.</p><p>You look up to him a few times, vision switching between the pretty pink tip of his cock to the clenching of his jaw. </p><p>He almost looked in pain, and for a moment you were worried he was. But no, it wasn’t pain… definitely <em> wasn’t </em> pain.</p><p>You bring your eyes back up to his, but he’s gotten lost in the sight of your hand around him.</p><p>“What — what do I do now?” You ask. Your voice has been reduced to just above a whisper. Eren can feel your grip on him loosen just a little, and your hand shakes around him.</p><p>He internally curses to himself at your question. He was about to ruin you, he was about to taint your pretty little mind and body with himself. He was the first person inside you, and — </p><p>Oh <em> fuck </em> — <em> he was the first person inside you </em>.</p><p>And now, his cock is going to be the first inside you as well. </p><p>“Wrap your hand around it, just like you had before — yeah, just like that — and I’ll show you,” His voice is strained already and a little raspy, but the gentle purr in his chest only has you growing warmer.</p><p>Eren sits up from his hands, shifting his left arm to be able to brace him by itself while his right hand comes forward to grasp his cock around your hand. It engulfs the back of your hand, your knuckles, the tips of your fingers as he wraps his hand over yours until your fingers are flush against the length of him.</p><p>Eren chokes on his breath again, the increased pressure just shoved him that much closer to prematurely cumming.</p><p>“I’m going to move alright? Let your hand move with but under mine…” He adjusts his grip a little before shifting his left hand to support him better.</p><p>You shift yourself a little closer to him to where you could rest your head on the inside of his thigh if you wanted. Your spare hand falls to his bare thigh, fingers pressing into the muscle in anticipation. Eren’s hand begins to shift over yours, and you let him grip himself over you tight enough so your palm is guided by his. </p><p>You look down to where he’s within your fingers, and you’re suddenly hyper-aware of every little characteristic that’s inside your hand. You can feel every pushing of a vein against the warm skin under your palm, the gradual but minuscule upwards curve there is to the entirety of him, and then —</p><p>“‘gonna want to start real slow, alright? And be gentle around the — <em> fuck </em> — around the head,”</p><p>— you feel the divet of his cockhead sliding under your hand. </p><p>Eren squeezes a little tighter then, so your fingers remain flush, and the slimy, translucent liquid precum spreads over your skin as he does. It helps with friction, it slickens up his cock and your hand just enough to have you sliding over him a bit smoother than before. Eren seemed to like it like that.</p><p>You keep your eyes on him as he guides your hand, and he keeps his eyes on yours. You take notice of every little twitch of pleasure in his expression, every furrow of his brows, and sudden dilation of his pupils.</p><p>You felt so warm — <em> hot </em> — under his gaze. He was watching your every expression, every movement, like a hawk. He could still see your hand under his in his peripheral, but he wouldn’t dare to take his eyes off yours. </p><p>He needed to see your face shift into one of arousal, he needed to hear the gasp you made when he takes his hand off yours and a quiet, squelching sound replaces it. He watches your eyes flit with panic for a second when you realize that you’re now on your own with his cock. It was just you jerking him off now, and that was so, so much hotter than before.</p><p>Soft, shaky exhales leave his now parted lips with every upstroke, and they turn into low groans as he increases his pace over you. His stomach was twisting and turning, abdomen flexing, and thighs twitching under your touch. He felt hot, so fucking warm, and he knows damn well that there’s a pink flush swarming up his neck, over his cheeks, and tinting the tips of his ears red.</p><p>“<em> God </em> — just like that, <em> fuck </em>,” He finally is forced to break eye contact, his pretty eyes squeeze shut and his head falls back against his shoulders just enough to accentuate the sharp edges of his jawline.</p><p>Eren wasn’t the only one taking mental images and filing them away. This little scene — with his dick in your hand and his head fallen back, lips parted and swollen from kissing — you were never going to be able to get it out of your head. All his praises split into equal parts to your head, your heart, and your cunt. It had your head fuzzy.</p><p>It was so much, for him <em> and </em> for you. You were already stopping yourself from pressing your thighs together and he wasn’t even in your mouth yet. You were getting impatient again, unsure <em> yes </em> , but impatient. You wanted him on your tongue. You wanted his release down your throat. You didn’t care if it <em> ‘won’t be what you’re expecting’ </em>, you want it.</p><p>Eren can visibly see the little switch in your head flip. Instead of being hesitant to continue, you seemed to be looking to him for approval. Your eyes have grown curious once more, and your hand and its movements seem to have improved from the beginning. Eren was about to let you know to continue, but you spoke before he could.</p><p>“Can I… keep going?” You ask, looking into his eyes.</p><p>He twitches in your hand. His dick literally <em> jumped </em> in your hand.</p><p>“Yeah… yeah, just — just watch your <em> teeth </em> —” He seethes, sentence getting cut off as your palm squeezes around his tip softly.</p><p>You want his eyes on you when you first taste him… so you wait. You steady your hand, holding him about a quarter of the way up, and pause until he pulls his head back up. You could feel saliva pooling around your tongue like you were a <em> dog </em> slobbering after a day at the park.</p><p>Eren finally lifts his head off his shoulders, worried that you’ve gotten scared or needed to stop. But it was quite the opposite. </p><p>The sight he meets when he opens his eyes showed nothing of the sort. You had your tongue stuck out of your mouth, hovering centimeters away from the tip of his dick. He could feel the heat of your breath fanning over and down to his pelvis. And once his gaze flits up from your mouth to your eyes, your tongue presses against the head of him.</p><p>He welcomes the slick, warm, <em> soft </em> sensation of it licking up the most sensitive part of his cock with a low, dragged-out groan. He was feeling like the virgin again... like he was getting his dick sucked for the very first time once more.</p><p>He can’t even count how many mouths have been on him, but none of them... <em> none... </em> have felt like your little tongue does. It wasn’t good, the movements were a little sloppy, a bit unsure and hesitant, but it didn’t <em> fucking matter </em> . He realized that it wasn’t how <em> good </em> the head was, but <em> who </em> was giving it.</p><p>“Shit — you remember the taps, right? <em> Fuck </em> —” He feels your lips finally wrap around the girth of him. </p><p>You pull him back out to nod, keeping your tongue against the smooth skin of his tip as you do. And you give him a singular, soft tap against his thigh with your free hand. And once his eyes returned closed, you slip him back past your lips.</p><p>You feel your tongue around the head, getting the faintest salty taste of the precum that you had smeared across it with your hand. And you can feel the ridge where the shaft turns into the tip against your tongue. </p><p>He was heavy in your mouth, heavy and thick and so warm. Your jaw was already beginning to strain in the slightest, and you could feel your lips burning a little as they stretch around the girth of him. It tasted good, clean, and you realize that doing this was nowhere near as gross as you used to think it was.</p><p>If anything, you were far more aroused when his dick was <em> in </em> your mouth than <em> out </em>. Knowing that you were the one to please him, you were the one pulling these choked-out groans from his lips, was overwhelmingly erotic. His every noise and every twitch of his hips had slick pooling in your panties.</p><p>You slowly made your way down his cock, inching in more and more every couple of seconds. Your eyes were burning — not yet swelling with tears, but you knew they would soon — and the tip of him was now nudging at the back of your mouth where it turns to your throat.</p><p>“<em> God damn </em>— that’s good, there you go,” Eren hisses, hands falling behind him to hold him upright, and once he feels the sheets underneath his palms, he grips them tight. </p><p>He wanted to watch. He wanted to see you take his cock down your throat, but it was just too much for him. He couldn’t keep his eyes open. He needed to put that energy towards holding back the urge of fucking himself up into your mouth.</p><p>He could feel your little tongue quivering against the underside of his length, every bump of his tip against the entrance of your throat sends it lurching and pressing into him. He loved it. He loved feeling your entire mouth squeeze around him.</p><p>You started off slow, just like he had told you, slowly bringing your head up and down with your lips flush around him. Your saliva made it easy to bring your mouth down a little more every time. You could feel it dripping down and gathering over your fingers. </p><p><em> Maybe </em> it was a little gross. It was definitely sloppy, and the feeling of your fingers sliding against each other around the base of him from the slick in your mouth has you shivering every time your grip shifts.</p><p>You couldn’t get a good enough hold on him anymore, your saliva was just slobbering down all over him and you couldn’t grip him tight enough without him slipping within your hands. But Eren liked that, it was just more delicious sliding over his cock that had him seething.</p><p>He needed to see. He needed to crack his eyes open just enough to be able to see your mouth on him, to see your hand covered in spit around him. It was hard. The pleasure bubbling around in his stomach was too grand, too strong, he doesn’t know if he’ll be able to look at you without cumming down your throat.</p><p>But he does it and he’s greeted with your pretty eyes looking up at him, all wide and pupils blown, his dick all messy and your lips sheening and glossy. Your other hand was digging its nails into the sinew of his thigh, creating little half-crescent shapes in its wake whenever your hand shifted around.</p><p>“Fuck — <em> fuck, </em> you’re so pretty,” He breathes, sitting up a little to reach out with a shaky hand to cup a hand to your cheek, fingers sliding up your jaw and wiggling their way into the hair behind your ear, “So good, so fucking good. My good girl.”</p><p>Eren both hears and feels the whine you let out around him at his praise. It was soft, just a little muffled squeak, where your lips pull off his length for a second. And once you get that little inhale of cold air, you decide to temporarily pull off.</p><p>Attached to your lips are strings of saliva, all the way from your tongue to the head of him, more drips down to the bedsheets and the floor, down your chin and over your jaw. You swallow a few times, choked and ragged as you breathe.</p><p>“Can — can you help me? I want to fit more?” You rasp, sitting up and looking to him with eyes wide as you plead.</p><p>Eren groans, audibly, and nods, “Fuck — yeah. You gotta tap me… if it gets too much, promise?” He shifts his weight in his seat until he can properly sit upright without having to bear too much weight.</p><p>“Promise,” You nod, wiggling upright a little more until your weight is held by your knees instead of being spread evenly over your shins.</p><p>You keep your hand around the base of him as he moves his hands to either side of your head, looking up to him the entire time. You whimper softly at the feeling of the gentle tug against your hair as his fingers wiggle into it once more, and the soft but steady pressure of his palms against the back of your skull is equally arousing. Such a simple action turned you so submissive, made him seem so dominating, and like a flip of a switch... you were ready for him to use you.</p><p>You lax the tension in your neck for him, making it easier to guide your mouth back over his cock. He starts slow, just like you had, inching you down and down with a stuttering groan and shaking arms. </p><p>He can feel when his dick hits your throat’s entrance, both with his tip and against his hands. He’s hesitant to slide farther, past your mouth and into the tight heat that will so greatly resemble what he hopes your cunt would feel like. But when you look up to him with your brows furrowed and eyes blinking away tears, he has to continue.</p><p>Your hands grab at his knees when you feel the head of him slip a bit further than you were used to, just far enough to have you contracting around his tip.</p><p>“Tight — <em> fuck </em> . ‘ <em> tight </em> fucking throat, <em> shit </em>” He winces, but not in pain. Your mouth is squeezing around him so nicely, so warm and wet.</p><p>Fuck, he wishes it was your pussy.</p><p>You gag again, stomach clenching and lurching as you do, and your nails dig into the hard bone of his knees. He can’t even feel it, he <em> doesn’t </em> feel it, all he can feel is the slick heat of your mouth.</p><p>He keeps pushing, pushing your head down and past the middle of his length. His brows furrow and his nose scrunches a little when he sees the first little tear fall from your eyes and down your cheek.</p><p>“Take it, <em> fuck </em>. Take it, take my cock,” He grits, biceps flexing as he eases more and more down your throat.</p><p>You close your eyes, but the tears still fall and you still gag with every centimeter he adds until he begins to slow, and you’ve thought he’s stopped, but then you feel your nose up against the soft skin of his pelvis. But once your nose lands, he’s pulling you right back up.</p><p>You choke and gag with every up-down motion as he sets a steady pace of filling your mouth with him and pulling out. He doesn’t force himself down all the way the entire time, but rather every once and a while when your tears begin to dry.</p><p>“Look at you... first time and you’re already letting me use you,” He mumbles, the tone of his speaking flitting a little darker. He didn’t mean to say it out loud, it just slipped out. The last thing he wanted was to freak you out with how he talks when he’s up this high with pleasure.</p><p>But you moan around him again, and immediately he’s pulling you off. The muffled moan slips out into the open air, turning clear as day when you’re not stuffed with his cock, and your cheeks immediately heat up from embarrassment.</p><p>You felt so good, so <em> good </em> being useful, so good giving him that type of pleasure. You never wanted it to end. It made you feel all fuzzy and warm with not only heat but endearment as well.</p><p>Your spit is dripping down your chin, disgustingly stringing across the free air and attaching back to him. He keeps your head in his hands.</p><p>You don’t want him to ask if you’re okay, you really don’t. You were fine. You were <em> more </em> than okay. Every nerve ending in your entire body was on fire, a fire lit by him. You couldn’t take it anymore, you just wanted him to do whatever he fucking wanted with you. You wanted him to use you.</p><p>“Please,” You whine, pushing against his hands to try and get closer.</p><p>“What? Are you alright?” Eren pants, shutting his eyes again as he breathes.</p><p>“‘want more, put it back,” </p><p>“You want it?” His eyes open, peering down to you with a bit of mischief lingering inside.</p><p>“Yes, ‘wanna make you feel good,”</p><p>
  <em> Him.  </em>
</p><p>You want to make <em> him </em> feel good. Your mind wasn’t on anything else other than him, you weren’t too nervous anymore, you were <em> desperate </em>.</p><p>“I don’t want to hurt you,” Eren breathes, but his actions contradict his words and he’s guiding you towards his cock again.</p><p>“I’ll tell you if it hurts, I promise. ‘just want to make you cum,” You whimper.</p><p>And fuck, Eren can’t turn that down. He steadies his hold on you, takes his bottom lip between his teeth, and lowers you back down… <em> quick </em> . You gag immediately but he doesn’t stop. You don’t <em> want </em> him to stop.</p><p>His biceps bulge as he picks up the pace from before, steadily bobbing your head up and down again and again and <em> again </em>. And he was hitting deeper this time, slipping back into your throat and pulling out.</p><p>Tears were steady flowing down your cheeks, and your body naturally responds by closing your eyes. </p><p>You feel like you’re going to explode. Your cunt is clenching around nothing, begging to be filled by something — his fingers, his tongue, his <em> cock </em>.</p><p>And fuck, you want it. You want it so fucking bad. You want to pull his dick out of your mouth and let him fill you up with it. You want him to use your cunt like he’s using your face, you want him to fuck you at this pace.</p><p>“There you go. ‘so fucking pretty while I’m using your mouth,” He groans.</p><p>You wish you could tell him thank you, thank you for <em> everything </em>. You want to thank him for teaching you, for pleasing you, for giving you what you want, for taking what he wants when you allow him to. You could almost cry, not from the dick that’s filling your throat, but from admiration.</p><p>You swat his hands away quickly, pulling them out of your hair and off your head. Eren lets you. Eren lets you grab ahold of his thighs tight enough so you can pull your throat down over his cock at the same pace and depth that he had.</p><p>And it’s too much, it’s far too much. The coil in his stomach is winding up and brightening with heat and it’s going to snap if you don’t stop. It’s going to snap right in your face — down your <em> throat </em>.</p><p>“Fuck, <em> fuck </em> , I’m gonna cum. <em> Baby, baby, baby, </em> get off, <em> get off or I’ll </em> — oh fuck, <em> fuck… </em>” He groans, hands reaching out for you but failing to make contact with your head. They twitch and flex in mid-air like he was seizing or being electrocuted or something.</p><p>And you feel it, with your nose to his pelvis and his cock down your throat, you feel the warm and slick release of him spill down inside you. It was hot and smooth, but thick. And at the back of your tongue, you can taste the bitter unexpectedness that Eren was talking about.</p><p>His hips aimlessly jerk into you searching to thrust deeper, but there’s no way. He was already to the hilt, unable to push farther, but he couldn’t stop the stuttering of himself into your mouth. He was going to overstimulate himself, but he couldn’t fucking stop.</p><p>He just filled you with his cum. </p><p><em> Eren Jaeger </em> just filled you with his cum.</p><p>And it wasn’t the way it sounds, and it wasn’t the exact way that either of you wanted it, but you were full of him, full of his cock and his release and neither of you could complain.</p><p>Well…</p><p><em> You </em> could.</p><p>You’re the one to tug yourself off and back away from him with a wet coughing gag. You take your hands off him as well and have them up in front of you in almost the same way he had with his. </p><p>It wasn’t disgusting, but it definitely was not pleasant. It was salty and harsh and lingered on your tongue far longer than you wanted it to. You just kept swallowing and swallowing, like it was still in your mouth, as Eren brings himself back down.</p><p>He hears your coughing and choking and his eyes shoot back open with concern. Your hands are hovering around your throat and your eyes are squeezed shut so fucking hard that he’s worried he’s hurt you.</p><p>But then you stick your tongue out a little — like your tongue itself tasted bad — and grimace while shaking your head and crinkling your nose. The same tongue that was on his cock just a moment ago.</p><p>“Oh shit. <em> God </em> , I’m sorry,” He hastily pulls his sweats back up, not having to worry about the cum on his chest because there is none, and leans over to you, “Shit — yeah, <em> not </em> good is it?”</p><p>You giggle a little, your hovering hands finding his wrists and he holds your face between his own. His touch is warm, comforting, kind, and genuine. It makes that admirable fuzzy feeling return to your stomach.</p><p>“I — I told you not to,” He laughs breathily, bringing his face to yours to rest his forehead against yours and sliding off the edge of the bed to squat in front of you.</p><p>You spill into another wave of laughter, sliding your hands down his wrists until they meet his at your face. You hold them against your cheeks, smiling into the warmth and the proximity. </p><p>He was in a hazy post-orgasm state, and all he wanted to was to be close to you.</p><p>Usually you heard stories about guys being grossed out or repulsed by their partner after sexual interactions, but Eren seemed to be the exact opposite. </p><p>Maybe it was because he wasn’t your partner, or maybe because you had swallowed your first time. Whatever way it was, you didn’t care.</p><p>He took your lips in his again while both of you were still laughing. And you were giggling into the kiss, smiling against his lips as he gave you gentle pecks over and over until you doubled over into his chest. </p><p>His hands left your face to maneuver their way around you to hold the back of your head, keeping your cheek to his chest. He drops from a squat and to his knees, sitting upon them to grab ahold of you and tug you to him with his other arm. </p><p>You kept your nose nuzzled into his shoulder until the laughter settled, savoring the feeling of his warm body against you. His hands holding you to him. It was all him. You still tasted him on your tongue, still felt his hands digging into your hair, and you could smell the softest aroma of a masculine cologne on his shirt.</p><p>Your heart hurt, but not as it did before. It didn’t hurt like it did when you opened his front door three weeks ago to see him in a post-sex daze, it didn’t hurt like it did when you saw those purple bruises on his neck. This was a good hurt.</p><p>You never knew something could hurt so good.</p><p>“I want to take you somewhere,” Eren says softly, rubbing at your waist with the hand that remains against it.</p><p>“Where?” You ask, voice hoarse and throat tender.</p><p>“You’ll see... if you let me.”</p><p>“I let you.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Chapter Nine to be expected on 04/11/21 @ 3PM Central Time</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Murmur of the Wind</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Eren takes Reader to an important place to him to teach her a different kind of lesson. But she doesn't know if what's he's said makes things easier or more difficult on her heart.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Content Warnings: Heavy Corruption Kink, Light Dumbification</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Eren could feel your body still trembling, still warm beneath his palms as he holds you to his chest for just a little longer after he had spoken. The ragged ebb and flow of your shaky breathing was prominent to him as he kept you tucked to his chest.</p><p>His heart was still thumping sporadically beneath your ear, and it made you feel better about your own lack of composure, even though his was due to a previous orgasm and your was due to the aforementioned fact making you flustered.</p><p>You were praying he lacked the equanimity to notice your discomfort, that maybe his body was still too off due to his previous high to even form a coherent thought. </p><p>But that wasn’t the case. Eren was far too attentive, both to you and in general, to skip over the unsteadiness of your body. That and the fact that your shaking was so noticeable that even someone blackout-drunk would be able to distinguish your erratic behavior.</p><p>You assume that his gentle touches were an attempt to soothe your unease before he’d take you where he had planned to, but they were doing anything but their intent. The sensual presses of his fingers into the plush skin of your sides had needy whimpers working up your throat, and the gentle tug of his fingers when they would get caught in your hair, followed by an attempt to free them, had your body bending into his.</p><p>He was the cause of the pooling heat between your thighs, but you don’t have it in you to ask him to take responsibility for his… <em> mistake </em>. </p><p>You settled for ignoring it. Maybe, when you arrive at wherever he plans to take you, you’ll have forgotten about the spreading heat in your stomach, and the soft groans that rumbled deep in his chest when your lithe tongue swiped over his skin and caused your insides to squirm will only be an afterthought.</p><p>You hoped you would be able to do that, you were ready to, but as Eren begins to shift before you, you feel that resolve slipping again.</p><p>“Come here,” He murmurs, sliding his hands over the planes of your back until they grab a gentle hold of your biceps and push you away from him.</p><p>“What?” You ask, growing confused over his intentions, but nonetheless growing aroused as well.</p><p>He maneuvers your body easily, pliant and submissive with confusion until your back is flush to his chest and your knees are pulled to you. He wraps a hand around your waist, his forearm holding you against him the same as it had before while the other hand smoothes over your thigh and his back rests against the side of your bed.</p><p>“Eren?” You tilt your head back and towards the right to look up to him. His deep jade eyes glance back, glossed over and still hazy with arousal.</p><p>“Let me take care of you,” He tilts his head down until he’s mumbling against your temple.</p><p>“You don’t - you don’t have to. It’s okay, I can just —” You quietly protest, but you don’t bother to push his hands away from you.</p><p>“I can’t just leave you like this when I was the one to cause it,” You can feel his lips upturn against your skin.</p><p>Another wave of heat washes over you at the realization that you weren’t as collected as you had thought you had pretended to be. He had noticed your desperation, felt your body quivering against him, and decided to settle it.</p><p>You had nothing to complain about, for this is what you had inwardly hoped for, but anxiety swarms in your stomach the same way arousal had and you’re suddenly feeling like you’ve placed unnecessary weight onto him and made him feel obligated to please you. And on top of that, he had somewhere he wanted to take you, you didn’t want to throw him off track.</p><p>“Eren, you don’t have to I —” </p><p>“I <em> want </em> to,” He says, and his voice drops low enough so you can hear that familiar purring deep in his chest once again, “You did so well, let me make you feel good too,”</p><p>You swallow hard before letting out a shaky little and submitting to him, “Okay”</p><p>He kisses your forehead gently before slipping both hands down your thighs, towards your knees, then between them to spread them gently. His palms are turned outwards while pressing against the soft flesh on the inside of them, pushing out and down until your legs are adequately spread before him.</p><p>Your brain is only slightly muddled in trying to figure out how this certain position would allow him access to the intimate area between your legs. </p><p>Will he even be able to reach once he rests back against your bed frame?</p><p>“Will it work like this?” You ask, but your voice comes out much smaller and more docile than you had intended.</p><p>“Mhm, don’t worry about it…” He says softly.</p><p>His words bring you comfort, and you trust what he says. Your body quickly falls pliant to him when his left hand leaves your waist to push your hair away from your neck to leave the right side of your throat exposed.</p><p>You’re tense, but not awkwardly so. The tension and flexion of your muscles were due to arousal and not discomfort. You missed that, you missed this — <em> him </em>.</p><p>Your breath catches when his lips press to your pulse point, your eyes fluttering shut and your back subconsciously arches away from him. You can feel his warm breath faintly fanning out over the fragile skin, pulling goosebumps up the surface until he swears he can feel them beneath his lips. </p><p>Every breath you take is unsteady and uneven like your lungs are twitching around in your chest in reaction to every featherlight press of his lips to your skin. Your lips part with a quiet but sharp inhale when you feel the slick warmth of his tongue sliding over the curve of your jaw.</p><p>His hand still holds your hair out of his way, giving him free access to the most vulnerable parts of your neck and face. Your hips jerk around against the hand that is pressed flush against your stomach as his teeth take the thin skin beneath your ear between them so his tongue can slip over there as well.</p><p>Every little nip and tug, every smooth swipe from his mouth over your flesh had whimpers getting caught in your chest. He had you sounding like a little puppy, and it was cute, so submissive. It had his cock throbbing against your backside.</p><p>You suck in a little breath when you feel the hand at your waist slide beneath your shirt, fingers skimming over the erogenous and ample flesh of your navel. Your thighs and stomach flex, your entire body tightening up in his lap as he teases you so softly.</p><p>“So sensitive, aren’t you,” He mumbles, lips now pressed to the curve of your ear.</p><p>He wasn’t complaining, nor did he mean it in a negative way. He loves and craves every exaggerated reaction he pulls from you with even the softest touches. It had chest swelling with pride, and his ego inflating as he realizes that he’s the first you’ve allowed doing this.</p><p>He had so much control and so much influence over your inexperienced and passive body. You had allowed him the freedom to travel over the most intimate expanses of your skin, and he was so gratefully accepting your willingness.</p><p>He wanted to please you, satisfy you, <em> wreck </em> your entire being with the softest grazes of his fingers until all you know and feel is a warm and powerful pleasure. </p><p>He’ll be the first to numb your pretty mind of any coherent thoughts, the first to drive you drunk on sensuality and intimacy. And he’ll treat you so well while doing so. He’ll guide you and soothe you, walk with you hand-in-hand, every step of the way until your able to walk steadily without his aid. </p><p>He only trusted <em> himself </em> to do so.</p><p>He didn’t trust Owen to be so gentle with you or to be so sincere and genuine with your body and your mind. Every time he heard that you were planning on seeing him had his stomach twisting with not only jealousy but concern.</p><p>What if he <em> hurt </em> you?</p><p>What if his hands wandered too far or his mouth spit words that were too harsh? What if he and his actions ruined your perception of sexuality?</p><p>Eren would never forgive him, would never forgive <em> himself </em> if he let that happen.</p><p>You were so vulnerable, so limber and so malleable. He couldn’t let Owen — <em> anyone </em> — knock down your expectations. </p><p>You only deserve the best. He had meant it truly when he had told you so. You deserve to be praised and cherished. He could not let <em> anyone </em> let you think that you deserve otherwise.</p><p>Eren needed to be the one that you base all your future experiences on. His gentle and genuine touches need to be formed into the expectations that you would have of all your future partners. He needed you to hold them all to the highest level.</p><p>And maybe, <em> maybe, maybe, maybe, </em> he would treat you so well that none of them —  none of those of the future — would be able to reach the level of pleasure and comfortability he had made you feel.</p><p>And then, you’d come back to him... so you can feel that same way again. </p><p>Maybe he’d make your entire being feel so at home with him that you won’t want anyone else but <em> him </em>.</p><p>But what Eren didn’t know is that he already had that claim on you. To be honest, neither of you truly knew. Eren already owned your body, your mind, everything about you. From the first time his lips were pressed gently to yours, you were his… and you hadn’t even realized it.</p><p>And every time from then, every time his strong hands felt over your skin, the claim he had on you wound tighter and tighter. </p><p>He keeps kissing your neck while the hand on the skin of your stomach teases the elastic waistband of your pants. For some reason, it seems like the lighter he touches the greater the effect it has on you. Because you can barely feel his fingers when they dip below your waistline, but the electric jolts that spark through your body in reaction have your brain going numb</p><p>“Eren —” You whimper softly, tilting your hips into his touch.</p><p>“Is this okay?” He asks, lips brushing against your hairline as he slows the rate of his hand shifting downward.</p><p>“Yes, please,” You respond.</p><p>Eren could groan at the desperation that litters your voice. He can feel his dick twitch and harden in his pants against the small of your back, and for a moment he was worried that the two of you would be stuck in this cycle of getting each other off because one would grow too aroused by bringing the other to an orgasm.</p><p>Eren’s head would get lost in fantasizing how this cycle would go on and on until you would finally figure out that the way to end it would be to please each other at the same time… you know… like <em> sex </em>.</p><p>He’ll let you figure that out eventually... when you’re ready. For now, he’ll please you however you want, and let you do the same to him.</p><p>Your head falls back and presses into his shoulder once his fingers slip between the fabric of your panties and pants. You wanted skin-to-skin contact, wanted to feel his touch head-on, but you’ll settle with the sensation of him teasing you over the thin fabric of your panties.</p><p>He was hovering over where you knew you needed him like he was waiting for a final plea or a protest. You were growing impatient with him, and every time your hips twitched forwards for contact his hand would keep its distance and refuse pressure.</p><p>You were close to begging for more when he spoke again.</p><p>“Tell me what you want…” He whispers, and you can feel his lips turn into a smirk against your ear again.</p><p>You hated his teasing just as much as you loved it, and he knew that. You knew that a little part of him was doing this on purpose and that it wasn’t only to hear your verbal consent. He liked to hear you begging for his touch.</p><p>“Touch me,” You speak so quietly that Eren can barely hear it.</p><p>But he does, and he answers, “Where?”</p><p>You let out a little noise of frustration, squirming around within his grasp. He thought it was <em> so cute. </em></p><p>“Eren, please,” You beg, your own hands coming down to his thighs to squeeze the muscle between your fingers.</p><p>You can hear him chuckle quietly, with a twinge of mischief deep in his chest. His fingers begin to move closer, brushing over the tight fabric until you can feel them graze over your clit. </p><p>“Here?” His voice sounds like a purr against your ear and his fingers press down against your clit.</p><p>The former idea of ‘whatever amount of contact you thought was more effective’ went completely out the door, because the middling pressure he’s applying to you now has a soft moan being pulled from your throat.</p><p>His jaw drops open at the sweet sound that leaves your lips, and if he wasn’t so damn aroused by your reactions he swears he could have laughed at your sensitivity.</p><p>“Yes, yes, please,” Your nails etch into the fabric of his sweats and your thighs shake and threaten to close around his wrist.</p><p>He listens to your desperate pleas and continues to tenderly circle your clit, so gentle and sensual that it would be unbearable if it wasn’t for the mass amounts of pleasure it was bringing you as well. </p><p>He’s known your body all for a few weeks, but somehow he seems to know exactly how you want things. It was like some stupid sixth sense. Before even laying a hand to your cunt he could figure out the exact pressure you needed from him. </p><p>He knew what you needed to feel and what you needed to hear.</p><p>“‘that feel good?” He asks, the hand holding your hair releases it to come down to your stomach to hold you still just like the other one had.</p><p>“<em> Yeah </em>,” You rasp, jerking your hips into his hand, but you struggle to due to the pressure the other one applies to your stomach.</p><p>The pleasure in your stomach is warm and fuzzy, almost like static, and it has arousal pooling beneath his fingers and onto your panties. He could feel the slick gathering against the material, warm and wet and he couldn’t wait to slip his fingers inside you again.</p><p>Your soft sighs and gasps were more than enough to satiate his desires at this moment. Your pleasure brought <em> him </em> pleasure. Every saccharine sound that left your lips equated to another languid jerk of your hand around his cock.</p><p>As much as he wanted to tease at his impact on you, he wouldn’t dare since you were unknowingly doing the same to him.</p><p>“More, <em> please </em>,” You whine, recklessly bucking your hips up into his hand while your body writhes eagerly.</p><p>Eren lets out a small, unbelieving laugh at your wanting, but it wasn’t in teasing. You could swear it was in awe.</p><p>“C’mon, can’t I play with you a little more?” He nudges his nose against your ear, murmuring gently against the skin of your jaw.</p><p>His words truly go in one ear and out the other. You were too wrapped up in pleasure and need to understand a single thing he had said. It was like your head was underwater, his voice all low and muffled despite his mouth being right next to your ear.</p><p>“Eren, please,” You settle for another beg, hoping that it gets the message across regardless of what he had previously asked you.</p><p>His hand on your stomach slips up under your shirt, splaying his palm out over your skin, while the other continues to circle your clit. His fingers are cold and feathery as they make their way up your stomach. You extend your chest into his touch once the tips of his fingers make contact with the underwire of your bra.</p><p>It wasn’t the <em> ‘more’ </em> you were hoping for, but it was more, and that’s all you asked him for.</p><p>Eren felt his cock twitch as his fingers slipped under the undergarment to meet the supple flesh of your breast. Once he felt the soft flesh against him, he pushed the side of your bra up and over your chest to fully expose you to his hand.</p><p>You take your bottom lip between your teeth at the sensation of his rough palm sliding over your nipple. The feeling was sharp and hot, and it only caused the ache in your stomach to grow. He squeezes the flesh cautiously, testing the waters, memorizing how it gives so easily under his fingers. </p><p>You were being reduced to a silly little mess and he wasn’t even inside you yet. </p><p>You needed to change that.</p><p>Hastily, you grab ahold of the wrist that’s attached to the hand down your pants and shift it around aimlessly in hopes he’ll lock on to what you’re trying to convey. Thankfully, he does, and his fingers dip past the fabric of your panties to finally allow skin-on-skin contact.</p><p>They’re cold, just like the others, but the temperature was delicious in comparison to your warm body. They immediately go back to work, pressing the pads of his fingers against your clit to massage the same way he had before.</p><p>“Fuck, <em> fuck </em>,” You gasp, tightening your grasp on his wrist. You can feel the tendons flex beneath your hand.</p><p>The other hand releases the entirety of your breast to allow two of his fingers to take your nipple between them. It was electricity, pure electricity surging through your body with every polar tweak of his fingers.</p><p>You were twisting in his arms now, legs spasming, head falling back to his shoulder every time he pinches your nipple a little harder. You could feel his cock hard against the curve of your ass, and you knew it was your fault; the way you were writhing around before him had definitely added to his discomfort.</p><p>“<em>God </em>, Eren,” You cry and push down on his wrist again. He complies.</p><p>His fingers slip lower, and with the guide of your own hand, his middle finger slips inside you. It was laughable how easy it was for him to slide inside you.</p><p>“Jesus-fucking-Christ,” He hisses, jerking his hips against you at the sensation of being engulfed by the wet heat of your cunt, “So fucking wet — <em> so wet </em>,”</p><p>You were still tight, hugging his finger so nicely, but <em> holy fuck </em> you were <em> dripping </em> for him. So fucking tight, but you were so wet he swears it wouldn’t be too hard to slip his cock inside you.</p><p>It would hurt a little, it always would, but if he could get you like this… then it would be so much better. He’d get in so easy, so quick, just to be greeted by the tight heat inside you. </p><p>
  <em> He’d fuck you so good. </em>
</p><p>A louder moan immediately escapes your lips at the intrusion, and you swear you can hear Eren groan alongside you. </p><p>“And to think you weren’t going to let me get you off…” He mutters, more to himself than anything. You needed him so bad, and he almost feels bad at the thought that he might’ve potentially left you like this.</p><p>He feels you get a little tighter at his words, the wet walls of your cunt clenching around the length of his finger. He makes a note of that; that you like to hear his voice when he’s inside you.</p><p>You could barely recognize that fact on your own. Every time he speaks, you go so stupid off his voice that you can barely comprehend what’s happening. It’s like he shoots you up with a drug, turning your entire body fuzzy.</p><p>“‘Ren, move, <em> please </em>,” You cry, sliding your other hand up to the one that’s attached to your chest.</p><p>It’s like you’re guiding him, or encouraging him, maybe both. Both your hands are at his wrists, holding them tightly like you want to feel them shift beneath your fingers every time he moves them. He knows that they’re not there to stop him, and because of that, the feeling of your touch drives him insane.</p><p>He listens to what you beg of him again, just like he had before. He knows you like the teasing, but he also knows that sometimes it may grow too much. He doesn’t want you thinking that you can’t have what you ask for — ask for so nicely, at that.</p><p>He pulls his finger out slowly like he’s savoring the way you tighten up at the feeling of him dragging through you, and then he fills you up again until his knuckles meet your pelvis.</p><p>It was only a couple inches deep, only as far as his finger can reach, but it felt like so much more. The amount of him that was inside you wasn’t nearly equating to the pleasure that you were feeling, and if you weren’t so overwhelmed with it, you <em> might </em> have been embarrassed. </p><p>But you aren’t too sure.</p><p>Over time, the insecurity that you had built up around Eren had begun to melt away; his tender and understanding demeanor being the cause. You weren’t scared with him beside you, you felt safe; safe enough where you allowed that shell of a strong defense to slip off of you. </p><p>You weren’t trying to convince yourself that the electricity surging through your veins was excitement instead of anxiety, and you knew the tension in your limbs wasn’t in precaution but rather a reaction. Your head wasn’t stuffed and full with worry anymore, the fuzziness swarming around in there and making you stupid was made up of admiration and security.</p><p>You were comfortable.</p><p>You were <em> safe </em>.</p><p>You were beginning to allow yourself to just sit pretty before him, trusting him and his kindness to guide you forward. He was so gentle with you, not necessarily in a physical sense, but psychological. And you couldn’t get enough of either.</p><p>His finger curls inside you, pressing up to your stomach and nudging at that little spot inside you that you only knew existed as of a few weeks ago. The unintentionally sultry moan that you gave him in response had him shivering against you; for that smooth, feminine, saccharine sound was caused by him.</p><p>“Eren. Eren, oh my God,” You gasp, hands releasing his wrists and fingers tensing and twitching as those waves of pleasure flood over you.</p><p>He feels every little flutter of your cunt around him in reaction to the unrelenting yet gentle smoothing of his finger over your sweet spot. He can’t even fathom how that tightening would feel around his dick, and he groans softly just <em> trying </em> to think about it.</p><p>“Oh, you like that don’t you?” He murmurs with a teasing tilt.</p><p>“‘feels so good,” You nod mindlessly, only registering that he’s spoken but not what he’s said.</p><p>“I know it does. I can feel you getting tight,” </p><p>Your lips part to allow gentle, timed, and breathy moans to flow freely into the air. And even though it’s followed by you turning your head and burying your face into his neck, Eren appreciates your willingness to let him hear.</p><p>He can still feel your little pants against his skin, and although the whines and gasps are muffled by his skin, your mouth is still right beside his ear. Your lips brush up against him in a rhythm, and for a moment he thinks it’s only due to the slight shifting of your body with every pump of his hand, but then he realizes that you’re actually kissing him.</p><p>At the place where his heartbeat thumps quickly and prominently beneath the skin of his neck, you press your lips against him. Your left hand — the one that was latched to the wrist beneath your breast — reaches to your right until you can hold onto the opposite side of his neck.</p><p>The positioning is a little awkward. His left hand on your left breast still tweaks your nipple while his right hand continues to play with your cunt. Your right arm is squished between your bodies as you turn your torso just enough to hold his jaw in your other hand and continue the little kisses against his neck. It’s a little uncomfortable, but neither of you seem to care.</p><p>“More, <em> please </em>,” You breathe between sloppy kisses to his neck.</p><p>Once his first finger is enough out, he slips in his ring finger along with it. He lets out an audible noise before you do, and it’s just a string of barely coherent curses alongside lewd descriptions.</p><p>The stretch doesn’t burn like it had the first time. You were wet and ready for him, and it only sent intense waves of pleasure through you. You couldn’t even let out an audible moan, it came out sounding like broken and choppy sobs, and you were borderline <em> thrashing </em> around between his legs.</p><p>He doesn’t even allow you to adjust before pressing against that spot inside you again, you don’t even get a chance to catch your breath before you’re having to shove your face back below his jaw.</p><p>He never let up from then. The tilting of his fingers turned into thrusting, and the curling turned into steady pumping. And it was <em> just </em> wanted you needed.</p><p>You couldn’t even get a noise out that wasn’t a mewl or a squeak that escaped when you tried to catch your breath. You were climbing that high so fucking fast that you could barely comprehend the pleasure you were feeling. </p><p>Eren was set and determined to make you cum, he wanted to feel it again, he needed to feel it again. </p><p>
  <em> He was going to make you cum. </em>
</p><p>You can feel yourself getting overwhelmed, and you knew you were far too close to cumming around his fingers.</p><p>“Kiss me, please.” You whisper against his skin. Your eyes aren’t even open to see the way his jaw slacks, but you can hear the <em> oh God, fuck </em>that escapes his lips and you can feel the grinding of his cock into your ass.</p><p>The kiss is so fucking sloppy, all spit and tongue and clacking teeth. You can barely kiss him back due to his fingers’ assault on your cunt. He swallows every moan, every gasp, every cry you give him. Your taste is on his tongue, and your cunt is around his fingers.</p><p>He knows you’re close too.</p><p>“Are you gonna cum for me?” He mumbles against your lips. He feels you tighten again.</p><p>“Yeah, ‘wanna cum for you,” You hiccup, resting your forehead against his and nodding.</p><p>Eren’s chest swells with pride. <em> For you </em>, you said. </p><p>For <em> him</em>.</p><p>“Yeah? Do it — <em> fuck </em> — do it, please. Be a good girl and cum on my fingers.” His voice gets tight, and it’s more of a beg than a command, but it’s that whiny little plea from him that sends you over that edge.</p><p>Your entire body goes tight, breath held, shaking, and <em> vibrating </em> as you do what he says. Your little cunt flutters around him, squeezing him so <em> fucking </em> tight that Eren’s own breath gets caught in his throat. He feels that sweet release of arousal slipping around his fingers, creating audible and <em> embarrassing </em> squelching noises as he keeps fucking them into you.</p><p>He fucking loved it.</p><p>You looked absolutely <em> wrecked </em> . You <em> sounded </em> absolutely wrecked. </p><p>You were absolutely falling apart and Eren thinks it’s the<em> hottest fucking thing he’s ever seen. </em></p><p>“<em> Fuck, yes </em>,” He seethes eyes fluttering shut, his lips search for another kiss and you meet him halfway there.</p><p>He only then begins to slow his fingers, letting himself savor the feeling of your slick warmth and the way you pulse around him when his tongue brushes against yours for just a little bit longer. Only tiny gasps and occasional hiccups leave your lips.</p><p>You exhale heavily once his fingers slip out of you and his hand shifts away from your breast, latching onto the underwire of your bra to cover you again. Your cunt aches in the emptiness you feel once he does. You wanted to be full with him forever, with whatever he gives you.</p><p>With his slick coated fingers, he moves up to your clit to circle it slowly, with no intentions to get you off again, just to ease you down. You still twitch, just little spasms as those final bolts of energy surge through you.</p><p>Once he was satisfied with the rate of your breathing and the steadying of your heart, he pulls his hand out of your panties. He gives you a final kiss, softer than any of the ones he had given you before, but before pulling away, he speaks.</p><p>“You don’t have to, but do you want to taste,” He says against your lips.</p><p>It takes you a few moments and the feeling of his pointer finger below your jaw before you realize what he’s asking from you. </p><p>You’re taken aback, but don’t decline.</p><p>“Is… is it good?” You shift away from him to look into his eyes.</p><p>Both sets were filled with admiration and lust.</p><p>“Mhm,” He gives you a little nod before nudging your nose with his, his thumb under your jaw and his two tainted fingers hovering before your lips.</p><p>“Okay,” You whisper.</p><p>Slowly, you part your lips, looking down to where his fingers are before you. They’re glossy with your viscous release, middle and ring finger pressed together as they slip past your teeth and to your tongue.</p><p>Your right shoulder is still tilted into his chest and you can feel his sharp inhale due to the sensation he feels that’s so similar to when he was previously inside you. And at this realization, he registers how helpful today will be to the mirage that appears in front of him at night.</p><p>You could feel that it was a bit thicker than saliva, but not grossly so, it coated your tongue nicely and gave the tiniest of slip between you and his fingers. It was light, and maybe there was the faintest sourness to it, but the taste on your tongue was far from bad. </p><p>You hated to think it, <em> my cum tastes better than his </em>. </p><p>It almost tasted <em> good</em>.</p><p>His fingers almost massage your tongue, like he was making sure that you sucked all of yourself off of his fingers. </p><p>And that almost <em> felt </em> good.</p><p>Eren’s lips part when he feels the vibration of a soft moan around him. His eyes shift from where you were suckling on his fingers and up to where your lashes rest against your cheeks due to your closed eyes.</p><p>“Look at me,” He says,</p><p>Your eyes flutter open as you look up to, and get lost, in the deep jade that you’re met with. His eyes are so full of endearment, so tender and soft yet so sensual and arousing. You don’t cower or shy away at the eye contact, you look right back.</p><p>“Pretty girl,” He says quietly, slipping his fingers out of your mouth to kiss you once more.</p><p>You can feel the wet of your saliva and remnants of your slick pressed against your cheek as he takes your jaw in his hand. </p><p>Your heart flutters this time, swelling and throbbing with an emotion or a feeling you can’t yet pinpoint. You only know that it’s new and foreign, but you welcome it. It scares you a little, just at the newness of it. It was a strange feeling, but you knew it was a good one. It was like having a sip of expensive wine and thinking <em> oh this is dangerously good </em>.</p><p>“Better now?” He smirks against your lips.</p><p>You smile back before pulling away, “Much.”</p><p>“Ready to go?” He quirks a brow like he didn’t just give you an absolutely mind-blowing orgasm.</p><p>You laugh breathily, going lax against his chest, “Yeah, just give me a minute.”</p><p>***</p><p>Eren had insisted on taking his car. He told you that since you offered your home to him, he should be the one to drive. He knows the location and isn’t willing to give you directions if you were to drive your own car and he can’t drive your car so<em> it would just make sense for him to drive, wouldn’t it. </em></p><p>Your legs were still shaky as he pulled you up off the floor beside your bed, still unsteady as you made your way down the stairs. Eren pretended to not notice the way you grip the handrail a little too tight, for your sake. And your thighs were still twitching as you slipped yourself into his passenger seat.</p><p>He had this little car. It was a soft mix between beige and silver. The paint was muted and headlights were foggy with years of wear. Although it looked like something your grandparents would drive, you deeply admired it.</p><p>Someone might be startled to see such a rough person with such a passive car, but for some reason… you <em> weren’t </em> . It almost matched him in a sense. It was reliable, gentle on the eyes and in its work, and it was so <em> fucking cute. </em></p><p>You could giggle at the sight of him sliding in beside you, and then your heart leaps when you notice the brand new magenta bruise in the exact space where your lips had attached to while he was pleasing you.</p><p>That <em>mark…</em> <em>that</em> mark was <em>yours</em>.</p><p>He seemed composed as he wiggled the key into the ignition. His hands were steady and his face had dissipated back to its usual tan complexion over its formally flushed one. His legs weren’t quivering from pressing into the floor of the car like yours were, and he didn’t hesitate before his every move like you had.</p><p>Just for a moment, you’re self-conscious... and a little uneasy. It doesn’t seem like your effect on him mirrors that of his on you. He’s collected and controlled and you’re sitting beside him with your thoughts still running around and your body still simmering with the aftershocks of his touch.</p><p>Maybe he’s just used to it. </p><p>You guess after all that experience, one would have to grow accustomed to it at some point. </p><p>Or maybe you didn’t have as great of an influence on him as you thought you did.</p><p>Either way, the thought hurts.</p><p>“So where are we going?” You ask, just as Eren begins pulling out of the driveway.</p><p>It’s cute to watch him look over either of his shoulders, brows raised and eyes wide as he checks for incoming cars. Once he’s fully pulled the car out into the street he turns back to you with a little smile on his face</p><p>“That is for <em> me </em> to know… and <em> you </em> to find out,” He says, turning back to the road in front of him.</p><p>You hold a smile and shake your head, “And how do I know you’re not kidnapping me?”</p><p>Eren laughs through his nose, glancing back to you quickly before he speaks again.</p><p>“I mean, you don’t, but just trust me,” He reassures you, bringing his eyes back to the road, “You’ll like it… I think. But when I tell you why we’re there, you can’t laugh at me.”</p><p>You feel your heart jump a little at his statement, arguably a <em> confession </em>. Your negative thoughts from only moments ago fade away as you feel yourself get giddy with the idea that he worries about your judgments on him. Even if his words were playful, it made you feel better about worrying so much about his view of you.</p><p>Neither of you should, and neither of you <em> have </em> a reason for your insecurity, <em> especially </em> you. On multiple occasions, Eren has stated that he won’t poke fun at you. Whether it was sincere or not, or referencing the sexual aspects of your relationship or not, it should comfort you.</p><p>And in some aspects it definitely did. His reassuring words steadied your breathing when you were panting before him, and the gentle purr of his chest against your back when he spoke eased your anxious nerves and allowed the uneasiness to morph into excitement.</p><p>“Eren, c’mon. You’ve done all this for me without laughing at me, so why on Earth would I laugh at you?” You ask as he first leaves your neighborhood.</p><p>You can see him thinking it over for a second, his tongue between his teeth and eyes narrowed as he checks both ways before turning. In the afternoon light that glints off the window onto his face, you think you can see at least a hint of a blush on his cheeks.</p><p>“Because it’s literally the dumbest thing ever, but I’m hoping — that because it’s so dumb — it’ll make you feel better about… <em> this </em>.” He doesn’t look to you once when talking.</p><p>You quirk your brow, looking up from your shoes and to him. </p><p>His vulnerability is admirable, but you have only a little idea of what ‘this’ could entail. </p><p>The most obvious answer is that he’s referring to whatever sort of relationship that’s going on between you two, but the second most is towards what has caused you to even <em> be </em> in the situation in the first place.</p><p>“So, this place is supposed to make me feel better about…” You trail off, trying to get some clarity from him. He looks at you in your pause, looking at you cautiously, “... Eren…”</p><p>He turns back away with his nose crinkled and eyes squeezed shut in a disgusted cringe, “See, this is why you need to wait because when you put it like that it sounds dumb.”</p><p>He almost looks embarrassed with himself. You smile at it.</p><p>“It cannot be worse than me asking to —<em> you know </em> — like… every week. If anything’s embarrassing, it’s how stupidly inexperienced I am,” You say lightheartedly.</p><p>Eren didn’t find that embarrassing. If anything, he found the opposite. As much as he loathed you for living in his head, he was more than excited to hear that you want him to ruin another part of you. Another part of you that he gets to claim and treat so well that no one else will even come close. </p><p>It was possessive and obsessive, he knows that. But if you’re going to give him the opportunity, he might as well make the most of it.</p><p>“I don’t know why you’re embarrassed by that,” He blurts out, temporarily bringing his hands off the wheel to gesture his confusion, “Most guys like girls who haven’t done anything. I don’t know why, they just do.”</p><p>You pause, making eye contact with him once he finally looks at you.</p><p>You knew that. You knew that there was this perverted male fantasy of taking someone’s virginity, but you didn’t expect it to be a common one for the exact same reason: it was perverted. </p><p>The way he worded it, the way his voice strained and raised a little, it had you wondering if his statement applied to him as well.</p><p>“Do <em> you </em> like it?” You ask, raising your eyebrows.</p><p>He immediately turns away from you, his eyes returning to his hands that now clench the wheel so tightly it looks like it hurts. His face begins to heat up and his heart starts jumping in his chest, and he immediately regrets what he’s said.</p><p>“I — um... this isn’t about me.” He stutters, but his face remains composed other than a flush pink bleeding onto the bridge of his nose.</p><p>You keep your eyes on his face and wait for even the <em> slightest </em> change in his expression. He doesn’t give you it, he only gives a hard stare forward and that faintest blush on his cheeks that could easily be excused by both of your earlier activities.</p><p>“C’mon, you made me tell you what I liked, now it’s your turn.” You try and play with him a little, not necessarily teasing but definitely poking at his humility.</p><p>But the same way Eren’s playfulness makes you flustered, yours does the same to him.</p><p>“It’s - it’s not like that. I’m not doing this just to get something from you,” He explains, and although you take notice of how he never answered your question, he seems to be honest with what he did answer with.</p><p>He didn’t want to tell you the full truth. Something about the two of you admitting that you liked personal aspects of each other outside of the sexual environment you created made things a lot more intimate and a lot more personal.</p><p>“If we’re going to keep doing this, I want to know what you like too.” You soften your voice in an attempt to get him to open up.</p><p>
  <em> If we’re going to keep doing this… </em>
</p><p>Eren almost runs into the car in front of him when he misses the cue that there’s a red light ahead.</p><p>“We’re going to keep doing this?” He asks, finally turning to look at you. His eyes are wide, not with refusal but searching for confirmation.</p><p>“I’m sorry, I didn’t - I didn’t mean it like <em> that </em>. I don’t —” You stammer, but after a few moments you realize that you did in fact mean it like that. But you can’t backtrack twice in a row, you’d just embarrass yourself more than you already had.</p><p>Eren notices your humiliation, for it’s quite hard to miss, and speaks up because he doesn’t want you to think that he’s turning you down.</p><p>He’d be more than willing to continue whatever thing you have going on if you felt the same.</p><p>“No, we can - we can keep doing this if you want to — or need to. I mean, I told you I’d help you as long as you want.” He tries to pull you back in.</p><p>You pause and think over what he’s said. </p><p>You don’t want to tell him that you don’t <em> just </em> want to be with him for his help or teachings. You know it’s bad to admit, especially since the status between you and Owen is still up in the air, but you want to be able to continue whatever sexual relationship you have with Eren.</p><p>He’s brought you so much pleasure and satisfaction and security that you’re past the point of only wanting him to teach you knew things. And as long as the relationship status between both you and him <em> and </em> you and Owen remains in the air and undetermined, is there really anything wrong with doing so?</p><p>“What if,” You pause, contemplating even saying anything, “What if I don’t need you to teach me something and I still… still want to…” You trail off, hoping he can catch on to what you’re suggesting.</p><p>He does. He realizes that you’re quite literally asking him if you want to have a friends-with-benefits type thing. You were obviously worried about asking it, blatantly avoiding the term and trying to remain as broad as possible in case of rejection.</p><p>He could see your shoulders turn in and you fiddle with your fingers as he continues driving, clearly insecure.</p><p>But the question you asked has been one that he’s wanted to ask you far before you even came to him, far before you even told him what was going on. This entire process, for the majority of his high school career, he’s wanting nothing more than to be able to have you.</p><p>Before it was always in a sexual aspect, he had never thought about having a serious relationship with you, but now… he’s not too sure that applies anymore.</p><p>“To practice? I mean, of course we can,” He says, only being as specific as you had, “Practice makes perfect, doesn’t it?”</p><p>His former flustered demeanor has disappeared, for once he noticed your vulnerability he traded it for that teasing and mischievous one he sports so well. But it wasn’t to make you feel bad or insecure, he wanted to bring the light back to the awkward conversation.</p><p>“If you like what we’re doing… we don’t have to stop unless you want to,” He finishes.</p><p>You let out a deep exhale at the realization that he seems to be okay with what you’re suggesting. And now the only guilt you have to deal with is that involving Owen.</p><p>If you were to continue with this… <em> thing… </em> you have going on with Eren, you would have to call things off with Owen eventually, or at least let him know. Even though there wasn’t a defined relationship between you and either of the boys, your consciousness is still feeling heavy. </p><p>And for the first time, you finally felt bad for Eren. You finally realized that through this whole thing he’s had to see you sneak off with someone else, regardless of whether or not you both acknowledged your feelings.</p><p>To you, it was a hard choice. You were stuck. Both of them you like, both you want to impress, and hopefully, both of them feel the same way with you. </p><p>You know at least Owen does. But sometimes, only sometimes, you worry that you only reciprocate Owen’s feelings because he feels the way he does, and not because you actually want him. But other times, when he’s taking you to lunch and listening to you ramble on about your day, laughing with you over gourmet sandwiches, you think you know that you <em> do </em> feel the same.</p><p>With Eren, you knew how you felt with him. You don’t need to explain it to yourself again. But you don’t know how he feels about you. For as much as you know, he could <em> truly </em> just want to be friends… with benefits. And although that fact is not confirmed, it still hurts. Which in turn has you wondering, why does the idea of only being friends with Eren hurt you so bad?</p><p>“Is that okay with you?” You ask quietly.</p><p>And although you can’t see it, he smiles softly, “Yeah, it is.”</p><p>The awkwardness has subsided at the agreement, and there’s a comfortable silence between you two for a while. </p><p>Eren’s happy and you’re happy, and as long as there are no labels on whatever you have with Owen, you’re going to assume that he won’t care. You’ll tell him if you have to, and you don’t have to worry about telling Eren about Owen because that’s how this thing started in the first place.</p><p>“Is that okay with you?” Eren asks, finally taking his eyes off the road and looking at you for a moment.</p><p>“Yeah,” You smile, “You’re like… the only person I’m okay doing this with.”</p><p>Eren’s chest swells with pride that he’s the one worthy enough to be the one to guide you. He doesn’t know if you’re referring to the teaching relationship or the friends-with-benefits relationship — to be honest, you don’t know which one you were referencing either — but it doesn’t really matter because you feel the same both ways.</p><p>“Even though I haven’t talked to you in like… six years?” He asks</p><p>You give him a gentle laugh, “I mean… <em> yeah </em> . I was, you know, <em> really </em> fucking nervous — I’m <em> still </em> nervous — but you’ve been nothing but kind, you’ve <em> always </em> been kind. I mean, you’re a little shit sometimes, but I feel… <em> safe </em> with you.”</p><p>The air begins to change as you finish your sentence. It turns intimate, vulnerable, real, and raw.</p><p>Eren wonders if you feel safe with Owen.</p><p>You don’t. You know you don’t. At least not as safe as you do with Eren.</p><p>“Do you not feel safe with Owen?” He asks quietly.</p><p>You don’t have it in you to tell him the truth. You’re still embarrassed about it; ashamed, <em> disgusted </em>, and you don’t want him to think differently about you because of it. </p><p>“I just… I know you, and I don’t know him like I know you,” </p><p>That’s true. So, at least you didn’t lie.</p><p>This time Eren’s the one to notice that you didn’t give him a concrete answer, but he’s also the one to refuse to prod for more.</p><p>You continue, “And I’m sorry for the six-or-whatever-years thing; for not reaching out to you before this. And I didn’t… I didn’t mean for us to drift as quickly as we did, I just didn’t know how to stop it.”</p><p>“Yeah, it was a little weird when you showed up to my doorstep for the first time in God-knows-how-long to ask me how to fuck someone,” He teases you gently, with a little laugh lingering in his voice.</p><p>“I didn’t know how else to word it!” You laugh, finally willing to poke fun at yourself, “And I didn’t know who else to go to, I told you that.”</p><p>Eren shifts around in his seat a little, just enough so he can keep his eyes on the road but also let you know that he’s truly <em> listening </em> to what you’re saying and not just <em> hearing </em> it. He takes one hand off the wheel and brings it down flat to the center console to grab your attention.</p><p>“Well, it doesn’t matter now, okay? I don’t care how we started talking again, all I care about is the fact that we did.” He explains.</p><p>His glances between you and the road begin to grow shorter and shorter like he’s looking out for a certain turn or a certain sign, which gives you the assumption that you’re close to wherever he’s planning on bringing you.</p><p>“‘s just so weird,” You cringe again, bringing your hands to your face and breathily laughing at your expense some more.</p><p>“Stop, okay, I don’t care” He speaks a little harsher, far from mean, but harsher, “We were always friends, okay? <em> Good </em> friends. And I don’t care how weird this is, we’re still friends or <em> whatever </em> this thing we have is.”</p><p>
  <em> So you have something… </em>
</p><p>“We don’t <em> only </em> have to talk about sex with each other. I want to catch up with you and learn what you’ve been doing these past years. Forget everything else, okay? I’ll teach you whatever you want, but in turn, <em> be </em> with me again.” He finishes.</p><p>You take a few moments to process what he’s said, and with each moment that passes, you can feel your hearting aching in that way that makes you warm again and again. </p><p>So many things that he had said in those few sentences had your lips twitching into a smile. So many things he said that you know will eventually be running through your head later on. You want to tell him that, but you can only settle on whispering a small, <em> okay </em>.</p><p>Eren takes a right turn after a comfortable passing minute. The road immediately morphs into a gravel parking lot, causing the car to jolt around overtop the rocks. Out past the lot is a hill, swooping gradually from the same level plane as the lot up until it looks to be a few stories high. You can’t see past the top, only the starting haze of the afternoon’s setting sun.</p><p>When you think Eren’s stopped to pull into a spot resting at the base of the hill, the car rocks a little when the front tires jump over the step of grass that leads farther up the hill.</p><p>Your eyes go wide and you latch on to your seatbelt as the back tires do the same, and then you can only grasp tighter when you realize that Eren’s continuing up the hill; tires pressing down into the grass as he makes the shallow upwards climb.</p><p>You give him a shocked laugh, raising your brows as you look at him. He’s already got a smug look on his face that tells you that he knew <em> exactly </em> what your reaction would be to him driving up the hill.</p><p>It’s a silent conversation; you, laughing softly at his youthfulness, and him, sitting tall on his hill of knowing you down to a T.</p><p>He slows down once the car reaches the top, and you get the opportunity to see how tall this hill truly is. Your face softens as your eyes meet the uniform and grainy view of the suburban neighborhoods down below you. The white houses are tinted warm with the setting sun.</p><p>Cul-de-sacs aren’t common in neighborhoods around you, so the fact that you can’t count the amount you see on one hand truly tells you how high up you are.</p><p>The other side of the hill, the one that sweeps down until its level with the backyards of houses, is much steeper than the one you drove up. At the base of it is a fence, one with bright orange, plastic netting to catch someone if they go tumbling down.</p><p>At the top of that hill, looking down to the quiet streets, sitting beside Eren in a comfortable silence, the lavender and peach watercolor hues of the uninterrupted, late afternoon sun bleeding across your faces, you feel something you haven’t felt in a positive light since before your friendship slowed.</p><p>Youth.</p><p>You hear the click of the ignition and the fading rumbling of the car once he parks at the top. Even in the mellow glow of the sun, you can see his cheeks tinting pink once more, and your lips quirk into a little smile at the sight.</p><p>“A lot of people don’t even know that this place exists, which is — <em> don’t laugh </em> — why this was the place where I lost my virginity.” </p><p>You can barely make out the end of his sentence, he cuts it off with a stifled laugh and his hands covering his face. It was a goofy mix between his embarrassment and fun at his own expense. </p><p>You shut your eyes, holding back a laugh with your tongue in your cheek, processing what he’s said.</p><p>“You can’t just tell me not to laugh and then laugh at yourself,” Your voice is tight as you limit a snicker.</p><p>“I have the right to laugh at myself, you don’t get to laugh at me!” He defends himself, but his tone is more playful than anything.</p><p>“Eren!”</p><p>He rests his forehead on the steering wheel and covers the remainder of his face with the crook of his elbow. If it wasn’t for the shaking of his chest from laughter, you would have thought something was wrong. You allow yourself to laugh with him, shaking your head and looking down to the floor.</p><p>It’s like that for a little, his little choked-back laughs followed by your equally as teasing reactions. It isn’t until he clears his throat and sits back upright that he talks again.</p><p>“Um, yeah, so this is where I lost my virginity,” He presses his lips into a line to check himself again.</p><p>You roll your eyes, “Eren, why… are we… here…”</p><p>“Because you’re a virgin!” He turns to you again, hands fanning out in front of him like he expects you to understand.</p><p>“Are you trying to make this a tradition or something?” You furrow your brows together, not necessarily sincere with what you’re suggesting but you’re surely questioning his motives.</p><p>“No! No — <em> oh my God </em> . No, don’t think that I took you here because — <em> fuck </em> — oh gosh.” He brings his forehead back to the steering wheel with a defeated exhale.</p><p>If you’d only let him.</p><p>He can feel his heart beating into his throat and pounding around in his head at your question. My God, what a stupid little innocent question from you could do to him.</p><p>“I’m kidding,” You smile, hearing his breathing steady.</p><p>You almost want to tease him a little more, realizing how flustered he can get with just a few pokes and prods, but you know better. You don’t want to push your luck because he could turn around and do the exact same thing.</p><p>It goes quiet again when he brings his head up, and the air is a little too thick for your liking. He opens his mouth a few times like he’s about to speak but then closes it after a second.</p><p>“I was fifteen and she was a senior and it was embarrassing and stupid. So just, basically, whatever, however, whoever, you lose it too… it’ll be better than mine. Because at least you’re caring about it. I didn’t care, and that was my mistake.”</p><p>You look over his face to see it twitching a little, flinching like he was waiting for you to tease him some more. </p><p>But you don’t. You realize that he’s just trying to help. He’s trying to be kind and make you feel better, in his own little <em> Eren </em> way. Even if it was absolutely unpredictable and had you questioning everything he’s ever said to you.</p><p>You stare back down to your lap, quiet and hesitant. He can tell that you’re trying to think over what to say, the same way he had just moments ago.</p><p>He looks over your face, the soft curve of your lips into a smile, the glow of your skin in the sun, and he’s so thankful that the late autumn brings early sunsets. His heart hurts like yours, tender and raw, but dripping with a gooey warmth that makes his stomach turn.</p><p>“You’re so strange.” You say softly, a little tilt of laughter in your voice, finally looking back to him. </p><p>“Shut up,” He says immediately, breaking eye contact, grabbing onto the gearstick, and shifting into reverse. He grabs onto the shoulder of your seat, twisting his torso to check behind him as he backs down the hill, “What do you want to eat?”</p><p>The conversation was over just as fast as it started, and you’re blinking a few times while comprehending how quick he’s decided to end your little journey. And as he drives towards the fast-food restaurant you mentioned to him, there are these little moments where you crease your brows at each little epiphany of what had just happened.</p><p>In the near silence, only the crinkling of the plastic and paper wrappings of your food filling the easy quiet, you speak.</p><p>“I’m majoring in vet-med,”</p><p>Eren looks at you for a moment, chewing slowly, seemingly confused with what you’re saying.</p><p>“You said you wanted to catch up,” You continue.</p><p>He gives you a little smile, nodding slowly as he swallows, “Like a veterinarian?”</p><p>“Yeah,” You say, looking back tot he friend food in your lap.</p><p>“Now I don’t even want to share mine ‘cause it sounds dumb compared to yours.”</p><p>“No, c’mon. Tell me.” </p><p>“Dentistry,”</p><p>You look at him for a moment before the two of you laugh softly.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>hi !!!!!! ive noticed that you guys are reccomending this story in a lot of tiktok videos and i want to say thank you! just please remember to never reccomend my tumblr on there due to the fact that i post dark content there and don't want to expose minors to that</p><p>thank you so so so much for reading and im so glad that you all like it so much!</p><p>edit: as of 4/21/22 i'm currently working on chapter ten, i'm hoping to have it out on the 29th</p><p>— june</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Hurt</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>After something happens with Owen, Reader is left with her own thoughts and returns to Eren, unsure of how he'll react.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Content Warnings: Sexual Assault/ Sexual Harassment (Head Pushing, Dacryphilia), Toxic Relationship, Mentions of Vomit, Rumination, Self-Blame</p><p>Author's Note: This chapter is not essential to read, so if you are not comfortable with reading a topic with such themes please feel free to skip this chapter. I will not be offended if you refuse to read. A very brief recap of this chapter's events will be gone over in the next chapter — which is a comfort chapter — but just enough so you understand.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Regret.</p><p>Eren and regret. That’s all you knew.</p><p>… And <em> hurt </em>.</p><p>Your heart hurts. It aches silently. By far the least severe pain out of it all — if you could even call those other pains severe — but it still hurts. It’s a soreness that spreads through your chest and up your neck to form another lump in your throat that you don’t dare to swallow down.</p><p>Your head hurts. It throbs mercilessly; continuously aches with every flashing headlight that passes you in the night. It lurks behind your eyes and pushes against them until there’s this borderline unbearable pressure at the front of your skull.</p><p>Your knees hurt; right between that weird place between your kneecaps and shins. They’ll be unbearably sore later, both to the touch and mechanically. They’ll ache and pulse with pain when you’re forced to put pressure on them again.</p><p>And fuck - <em> fuck </em>, your throat hurts.</p><p>All that pain — internal, external, physical, emotional — all you could even think about was Eren.</p><p>
  <em> He’s not going to help you right now. </em>
</p><p>He might. He’s done it before. You can’t even pretend that you don’t remember the pure fear that was on his face that night you came to him; when you bumped into each other in the hallway and he was looking over your entire being for any signs of harm.</p><p>That’s all that matters... is that he <em> might </em> . That’s enough to drive you forward. Even if he <em> might </em> close the door on you, there’s the same possibility that he <em> might </em> open it and tug you in. You didn’t even care if the possibility was close to zero, as long as there was one, <em> you’ll go to him </em>.</p><p>You can barely see through the dissipating tears in your eyes, but <em> you know where you are going. </em></p><p>
  <em> It probably wasn’t safe to drive like this.  </em>
</p><p><b> <em>Definitely</em> </b> <em> wasn’t safe to drive like this. </em></p><p>Your arms were shaking under the tight grip of the wheel and remnants of tears were still slightly blurring the headlights before you, but you had somewhere you <em> needed </em> to be. You couldn’t just stop.</p><p>Anyone in the passing cars would think nothing of your jerky driving. You weren’t screaming and crying in the driver’s seat, you weren’t slamming your fists against the wheel or the window and causing the people at the stoplights to turn their heads and stare.</p><p>You were just <em> sitting there </em>.</p><p>Throat raw, arms trembling, blinking back tears, and staring forward.</p><p>
  <em> Pathetic. </em>
</p><p>Stuck between looking like you’re trying to convince yourself that something didn’t happen and looking like you’re overreacting.</p><p>When you show up to his doorstep, will he think the same? Will he be just as confused with your reaction as you are? Will he be conflicted between using a demeaning tone or a gentle one when he asks you “<em> What happened?”  </em></p><p>The thought of going to him, going to confide in him, and he turns and looks you in the eyes with his piercing jade ones and spits “What happened?”, scares you to the very core.</p><p><em> He’d choose gentle, </em> you tell yourself. You’re almost sure of it. In your nineteen years of life, never once has he raised his voice at you where you didn’t deserve it, never —</p><p>
  <em> Oh my god, I deserve it. </em>
</p><p>Just as you take the right turn to get onto the highway that leads to his house, you’re sure he’s going to yell at you. Look you straight into your eyes, jaw clenching, face tightening, and tell you, <em> “You didn’t tell him to stop.” </em></p><p>
  <em> Communication. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Communication. Communication. Communication. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He told you this! Over and over — rammed it into your frontal lobe until the only coherent word that could even run through your head as you thought of him would be ‘communication’!  </em>
</p><p>It was your first rule with Eren.</p><p>And at that thought, you realize that you hadn't even thought over a list of rules with <em> him </em>.</p><p>
  <em> This was your fault. </em>
</p><p><em> Only if you said the word, only if you pulled away from his hips for the slightest moment to choke out something that could be interpreted as a </em> <b> <em>‘No’</em> </b> <em> , it wouldn’t be your fault. Only if you swatted his searching hands away — the ones that were trying to find a hold in your hair so he could </em> <b> <em>shove</em> </b> <em> — this wouldn’t be your fault. </em></p><p>You realize that the tears have stopped. They were still damp on your face, reflecting off the rear lights of the car ahead of you, but they have stopped. You almost bring a hand up to your face to check for sure but you return it to the wheel last minute, not wanting to know the answer.</p><p>You weren’t crying a lot in the first place. The tears you had wept weren’t even <em> wept </em>. They had just slipped out of the corners of your eye like they do when you lay on your side in your bed for too long. They just trickled down your cheeks and gathered on either side of your chin where they would stay and choose to either leak down your neck or drip down to the fabric of your pants.</p><p>
  <em> That wasn’t crying. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Did I even really cry? </em>
</p><p>Those gentle tears made you think <em> ‘oh, this situation mustn't be too bad. I’m overreacting’ </em>,</p><p><em> Because if it was really </em> <b> <em>truly</em> </b> <em> bad, wouldn’t you have cried more? </em></p><p>
  <em> If what happened was an actual issue, why didn’t you say anything afterward? </em>
</p><p>You and him, for a near half-hour, sat in near silence. Your elbows were bent, arms curled in your chest, legs tucked beneath the rest of your body as you sat beside him while the dull voices of the television relayed in the background like white noise.</p><p>The changing scenes changed the colored glow that illuminated your face in the dim light of the basement. One would be able to see the television in the reflection of your pupils if they tried hard enough. Uninterrupted, for they were dull and unblinking. </p><p>You rested into his side seemingly comfortably — physically, at least — with your knees propped up against the muscle of his left thigh, shoulder tucked into his underarm, his arm strung over the back of the couch like he was caging you in.</p><p>And you stayed.</p><p>Even after it seemed like he used all his power to shove the remainder of himself down your throat… you <em> stayed </em>.</p><p>You swallowed far too many times to count while you sat perched against his side, and you couldn’t figure out if you were trying to swallow down the emotional lump that was forming in your throat or the burning ache that lived there as well.</p><p><em> That </em> hurt.</p><p>Every swallow felt dry and every wave of saliva that coated over the raw of your throat felt like it was gashing open a new wound. There wasn’t blood — <em> of course there wasn’t blood, you idiot </em>— but there was still this sharp tang that was prominent where the back of your tongue would meet the roof of your mouth. But even then, that taste was more like a feeling than anything</p><p>And even while you were in the car, staring ahead into the glowing break-lights of the sedan in front of you, you could still taste that feeling, for it still lingered on your back most tastebuds. And every swallow reminded you of that shove.</p><p>That push that forced more in than what you knew you could take, that push that you could still feel against the crown of your scalp where his fingers buried into your hair and simultaneously tugged and shoved. Your head had begun to ache as the burn of the pull finally began to settle.</p><p>And the whole time, the whole set of minutes that seemed to drag on for hours and hours but now feel like a mere hallucination, you never told him off. Even as your scalp burned, your eyes watered, your stomach lurched and twisted from not only the triggering of your gag reflex but the fear that was running through you, you didn’t say a word.</p><p>
  <em> Why didn’t you say anything? </em>
</p><p>Even after, as you sat, your mouth was shut.</p><p><em> Why </em> <b> <em>couldn’t</em> </b> <em> you say anything? </em></p><p><em> Was it shock maybe? </em>Perhaps. </p><p>
  <em> But what was there for you to be so shocked about? You knew that when it comes down to it, a thing like that was bound to happen… right? </em>
</p><p>Even when you were with Eren, and his fingers were shoved deep into the roots of your hair and tugging harshly, you allowed him to shove your head down onto him. You had <em> asked </em> him to. You <em> begged </em> him to pull you closer and force more into you.</p><p><em> So, why were you even surprised when </em> <b> <em>he</em> </b> <em> did it? </em></p><p>You knew what to expect. Before you even arrived at his house you knew what to expect, and not only through past altercations with the boy himself.</p><p>With genuine thanks to Eren, you now had at least a decent idea of what those types of interactions ensued. You knew that hands would be on your face, in your hair; hips would be jerking themselves into your mouth, down your throat; tears would flow down your cheeks, spit down your neck.</p><p><em> So, why were you so shocked when </em> <b> <em>he</em> </b> <em> did it? </em></p><p>You shouldn’t have been surprised. Your stomach shouldn’t have turned with fear when you felt the familiar feeling of fingertips dancing along the back of your neck. Your eyes shouldn’t have shot wide open when you felt the length of him slide down past the tightness of your throat. And when you swallowed, you shouldn’t have panicked for breath when you felt your throat close around something compared to nothing.</p><p>
  <em> Eren did the exact same things with you. </em>
</p><p><em> So, why did your heart cry when </em> <b> <em>he</em> </b> <em> did it to you? </em></p><p>There was only one difference between the two, and it would take you a minute before you would be able to clear your head and figure it out. You didn’t know what it was, and you weren’t aware of it, but it was already influencing you. That difference was subliminal that was relaying over and over in your head and guiding you towards him.</p><p>Eren.</p><p>
  <em> Why Eren? </em>
</p><p>Why were you driving yourself to him? It was late in the evening, and tears now drying on your cheeks, after meeting with someone else.</p><p>
  <em> He hates when you do this... </em>
</p><p>Maybe it was because of what he had said to you just a little over a week ago when his car was perched atop that hill and the two of you were staring down at that little suburbia…</p><p>
  <em> “We’re still friends, or whatever this thing is…” </em>
</p><p>Is it because you’re <em> friends </em> that you’re going to him right now, or is it something else?</p><p>Maybe it’s because he’s the only person you truly trust in regards to your sexuality; that he’s the only one that you feel will not only hear but <em> listen </em>. </p><p>But just like before, you didn’t know that; you were completely unaware other than the realization that something feels different with him. All you could piece together was a feeling and a person. And you <em> liked </em> how you felt with <em> him </em>.</p><p>You didn’t know <em> why </em> you were so comfortable with Eren, you only knew that you were. You knew that you felt relaxed under his touch at the same time you were tense with anticipation, and you knew that your body trembled with excitement over anxiety. And every time you tried something new, said something new, did something new with him, his response was kind.</p><p>So yes, Eren Jaeger was the only person other than you that you felt comfortable in your own skin with… and you didn’t even know it.</p><p>The thought about going to your own <em>mother</em>, or Mikasa, or even Sasha or Armin, or God-forbid <em>him</em> <em>himself,</em> was absolutely <em>mortifying</em> to the point where you felt bile bubbling up in your throat and burning at the raw wound he left there.</p><p>
  <em> Fuck, you were going to be sick. </em>
</p><p>You couldn’t tell your mother you were sexually active — <em> oh my God </em>. You were nineteen, yes, and of course your mother knew that you were, but something about telling her</p><p>And then, <em> “Don’t let him force you.” </em> Mikasa had said.</p><p>
  <em> I can’t go to her and have to look her in the eyes and tell her “I let him force me.” </em>
</p><p>You’d word it a bit differently of course, so it doesn’t come across so harsh. But that statement in itself is a contradiction, ‘let’ and ‘force’ are quite literally each other’s opposites.</p><p>Sasha was out of town, and you didn’t really feel like an over-the-phone situation was the best way to tell her that you, <em> believe some boundaries have been overstepped between you and him, but you don’t exactly know what the boundaries were, or how he overstepped them. </em></p><p>And Armin, oh <em> Armin </em> . Armin would help. You know he would help… or at least <em> try </em>. You wouldn’t have any shame in telling him what happened nor would you be afraid to tell him the truth. </p><p>He’s kind and considerate and sympathetic and would hold you and let you cry. But there would be no point in telling Armin if he can’t keep a secret.</p><p>You knew that the moment the word left your mouth that something possibly bad happened to you, he’d be spilling it to Eren the second you’re gone. Not because he’s a blabbermouth — definitely <em> not </em> that — but because you <em> know </em> that you’re not the only one who’s noticed how Eren’s protective nature towards you has seemed to grow.</p><p>Armin’s always the quickest to pick up on body language and social cues, so you know that he’s taken notice of the way Eren gravitated closer to you while you were out in the city again not even a week ago. You know that Armin saw the hand that lingered on the small of your back, saw the chest that was nearly pressed to your shoulder blades as the owner of both maneuvered you past the crowd gathered in one of the shops you’d visited. </p><p>He sensed something, just like you. It was likely that he didn’t know what it was just yet, but both of you sensed something.</p><p>So, the minute he hears that someone laid a hand on a hair of Eren’s new fuckbuddy’s little head, he would tell Eren himself in an instant.</p><p><em> If </em> you were to tell Eren, if you were to confide in him and break down that final wall of intimacy and vulnerability, you truly believed he would listen. Not the type of listening that will end with you feeling like an awkward burden, where you’ll regret everything you said when you recall it later on in the night. You think — well you like to <em> think </em> — that he’d be attentive, look you in the eyes, and nod with comprehension and understanding and that alone.</p><p>You don’t want him to respond, for you’re not really looking for an answer. You just needed to get it all out without having repercussions, and Eren seemed to be the perfect option for just that.</p><p>There was just one last thing that you didn’t recognize, even as you thought over your options of who to spill the truth to. You knew that you weren’t looking for an answer, but what you <em> didn’t </em> know is that in those few minutes you were driving to Eren’s house, you had already found one… <em> regardless </em> of what the question was.</p><p>The ride after that right turn onto the highway that leads to Eren’s apartment complex was the longest part. It couldn’t have been more than seven minutes, but to you, it felt like hours.</p><p>After that right turn, it seemed that time began to slow. The internal clock that you have in your head began to tick slower, and the time between each ticking second and the next began to grow longer and longer.</p><p>The headlights on the other side of the road began to smear across your peripheral as they passed you like a long exposure of a timelapse is being projected into your face. Your eyes are open, but they’re unmoving, spaced out, and every time you shift them towards another anchor you can’t seem to recall the object you were previously looking at.</p><p>It’s like your memory was trying to get rid of itself. Every new memory you gained in those seven minutes ended up deleted in a desperate attempt to wipe that situation with <em> him </em> out of your brain. You were typing at the same pace you were backspacing, so as much as you wanted to forget it, your brain was forcing you to forget something else.</p><p>You paid no attention to the names of roads, hoping that your instincts alone will guide you there. You didn’t think you’d be able to read the road signs anyway — too afraid they would show up as some sort of gibberish nonsense, then confuse you more than you already were.</p><p>So you kept that forward stare, peering into the back windows of the cars in front of you. Sometimes you can see one head staring forward, sitting in the front seat, occasionally checking over their shoulder. Sometimes there’s a whole family; a parent or two — doesn’t matter, just someone that was the one driving — and behind them sat smaller individuals, ones whose heads couldn’t be detected unless they leaned into the center.</p><p>Your favorite out of the bunch of people who were victims of your watching were the same ones that managed to distract you for a minute. They allowed you to forget where you were while you looked into their lives for the brief seconds you followed behind them.</p><p>Two high schoolers, maybe young adults, sat in the driver’s and passenger’s seat of a small hatchback car. They moved around in their seats quite a bit, hands gesturing with enthusiasm, and occasional sole or shared glances between them ever so often. </p><p>A shorter figure and a taller figure, a feminine figure and a masculine one, one that was more open with their gestures and one that was more conserved.</p><p>And yeah… they<em> did </em>remind you of Eren. </p><p>Specifically, <em> you </em> and Eren... while you drove from your home to his hill and on the way back after a stop for food. They reminded you of that feeling... like there’s no one else in the world other than the two of you that sit in that car; that and the heavy weight of a bizarre mix between naivety and rapport.</p><p>It was a feeling that told you not to stare into each other’s eyes for too long, and forced you to turn your head away to avoid the tension forming off the shared gaze; one that had you watching where your arms were placed, and trying your best to avoid the adolescent awkwardness that you’d form if your hands bumped together. </p><p>You got to see that youth again, but this time you were the one outside of it.</p><p>What did others think when they took their turn to peer into a sliver of your life? What did they see? </p><p>These people beside you as you drive get to bear witness to one of your most <em> pathetic </em> slivers. Yeah, they might not be able to make out the fine details, but they’re still able to see you in such an exposed and unguarded state. They’ve seen your tears drip down your cheeks, they’ve seen them dry. They’ve seen your face morph into expressions of regret, frustration, nostalgia, recognition.</p><p>That’s what they see.</p><p>But what do the <em> others </em> see? The outside world as a collective. Did they see more of your highs or your lows? Did they like you or did they not? Who were they rooting for? Who were their favorites?</p><p>How did they feel about you when they saw you when you were young and running obnoxiously throughout the grocery store with some of your friends? Or when they saw you trip and fall on the sidewalk on your way to school? They probably laughed, scoffed, turned their heads away at used <em> your </em> juvenility as an excuse for the second-hand embarrassment you’ve caused them. </p><p>That really didn’t matter to you. Those memories were so mundane and ordinary.</p><p>What you really wished would affect them is the moments that are important to <em> you </em>. Positive or negative, it doesn’t matter.</p><p>Perhaps they base their opinions on you off of how you behaved on your very first day of school, or that day when you met Sasha at a middle school track meet, when you kissed your seventh-grade boyfriend in the hallway after school, or your graduation, or your freshman initiation…</p><p>Or your day out in the city just a little over a month ago…</p><p>… when you went out with Eren…</p><p>What did they think of Eren?</p><p>
  <em> Were they rooting for Eren? </em>
</p><p>To you, it feels like they are, but you don’t know what for.</p><p>And that’s the final unrecognizable and indistinguishable feeling you feel while driving from one home to the next, both of them not being your own.</p><p>They notice every time you leave your home only to go to his and their eyes narrow. They see you parked outside of his building and tense their muscles in anticipation. And when he opens the door every single time you knock, they hold their breath.</p><p>“Eren?” You speak softly.</p><p>***</p><p>Your mother always told you that actions speak louder than words; that what a person does means more than what they say. It makes sense if you look at it on the surface level. People can say whatever they want, but it’s what they do that actually matters.</p><p>That little saying always came after a few things: a scolding, an apology, or one of her “life lessons” that she likes to give you when you can’t seem to escape from her. She’d go on and on, telling you that you were wrong, or that she was sorry, or that she’s <em> had more experience with life than you have, so listen to your mother </em> — respectively.</p><p>
  <em> “You can’t just say you’re going to be home at eleven but open the front door at one AM. Actions speak louder than words, you know.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “I told you I’d bring you home take out and I didn’t, I’m sorry. Actions speak louder than words, yeah?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “If they were your friend they would have done that for you, right? Because what? Tell me what, baby,” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Actions speak louder than words. </em>
</p><p>People can <em> say </em> that they’d jump in front of a train for you, sacrifice themselves for you, maybe even <em> kill </em> someone for you, but would they actually do it? Could someone be so <em> dedicated </em> to a person that they’d be willing to go to that kind of length?</p><p><em> Hopefully </em> not.</p><p>But there’s still something inside of you that didn’t sit right with that statement that your mother ingrained into your skull. Something about it just felt <em> off </em>, like it was missing something. It seemed to be a simple answer for a complicated solution; a one-dimensional response to a multi-dimensional question. Something felt unanswered.</p><p>Something inside someone must have inclined them to say that, regardless if knew that they would never go through with it. Something told them to say that. There was a reason behind their words. </p><p>You could <em> want </em> to sacrifice yourself for someone no matter what. You could say it out loud, could have it set in your head, repeating over and over like a mantra, but the moment that you’re put into a situation that requires you to do so you just… can’t.</p><p>You want to, <em> oh God you want to</em>. But you <em> can’t </em>.</p><p>How could anyone expect you to stare into the eyes of death and just let it take you? Not only is that a psychological thing but it’s physical. Something in human biology — that fight or flight response — just won’t let you do it no matter how badly you want to. It either plants your feet into the ground and won’t let you move or it sends you flying one hundred miles an hour in the opposite direction.</p><p>Even when you want to and when you need to, you just<em> can’t fucking do it. </em></p><p>You <em> told </em> them that you would, that part was still there besides the fact that you couldn’t do it. So, for a brief period of time before your words and your actions, the words seemed to be louder.</p><p>Words. Actions. Words. Actions.</p><p>Louder, louder, <em> louder </em> — fucking <em> screaming </em> in your ear until your heart is in your throat and you can’t even process which one is louder anymore because they’re <em> so close. </em></p><p>So, how do you even know which one speaks louder? What’s the determining factor? The final straw?</p><p>Which one do you even choose? <em> Can </em> you even choose? Or is your fate already set in stone?</p><p><em> Maybe </em> you already knew the answer. You knew which one meant more to you, no matter which one seemed to be louder. Because it’s not <em> about </em> whether actions or words are louder, it’s about the one you <em> listen </em> to.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>This was a pretty heavy chapter, so if you had chosen to read it I truly hope you're doing alright after.</p><p>I apologize for taking so long to upload this chapter. I've tried a different writing style, so that was a little difficult for me. It's probably not too noticeable, just because it's only the slightest of changes, but I definitely switched it up a little bit with how I wrote internal dialouge and all that :)))</p><p>But on top of that difficulty, I found myself having to take breaks so I didn't get overwhelmed with the content I was writing. This was a very difficult chapter for me to write; it resurfaced some old memories and picked scabs off old wounds. But I'm very glad I wrote it. In some sense it seemed to be a healing experience... because I had control over what happened and what didn't while writing. So yes, as hard as this was to write, I am very glad that I did choose to :)</p><p>— Juniper</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>